deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy Art Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop		  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
The World Wide WebAll this information at our fingertips
Yet we choose to look at cats?
Freedom to voice our every thought
A privilege left unchecked
A steaming pit of tricks and trolls
Accessories now abused

Drowning in the vanity
And self obsessed depravity
Our lives uploaded; digitalised
Essence poured upon the screen

Entitled to an opinion
Set up for a response
Like throwing a lump of meat
To a pack of wild dogs

“Ten years ago, these people would not be allowed crayons,
Let alone use of the internet”
Paper Cut OutsPaper cut outs cut out paper
cut outs cut out paper cut outs
cut out paper cut outs cut out
paper cut outs
until the entire world stops making so much sense anymore.
We are forced to stand
side by side
standing side by side standing
side by side;
because we are expected
to fit their mold of
so-called perfection.
But the straw faces standing
in every identical window
couldn't understand the difference
between the difference in human beings
and the difference in the length
of the grass on their lawn
and their neighbors'.
How can they understand what
it means to hide underneath your
own skin when the only time
they've ever had to hide
was playin
Morei.
my phone might be
already smarter
than I am -
"What do you think, Siri?"
"I agree."
but that doesn't mean
that I don't need
the newest one
(it's not just a phone
it's a lifestyle)
ii.
Life is for using.
Use it as much
as you can.
iii.
they need more
than can be given
it's addictive
look at us -
we have become
something impossible
to satisfy
iv.
(I am always hungry)
(sorry)
v.
maybe we already
have too much
too much money
too much glitter
too much
we don't need
vi.
We put the needle
to society's veins -
but still it's getting worse,
so we keep raising
the dose.
vii.
we are wasting
worlds
and ourselves -
need more worlds
need more selves
need  m  m  m    m    o    r    e
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,
but still,
do you remember that day
the lumbering dragon awoke,
twisted by the falling rubble
and fire,
symbols of what we were
pancaked into smithereens.

I remember,
I remember
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,
discovering
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
of
Our Mother, Her Lady Lordship Our Mother, Her Lady Lordship

Her Lady Lordship
Fabu-ravishing temptress of the night
And Zena-esque Amazon by day
Enthroned and entombed eternally in crowds
Flowers, flour, children, chipmunks
All of it and none of it too.

She doesn't rest
E'er the wind blows and the heart finds something fond
Or the tempest throws a fit and a home
beneath waves of blue blood

Tar-poison ichor lymph
Shouting, fiery, "keep away!"; it does little
to sway the eight-legged creeping bloats
Tick-lodgers

Mutants
Half termite too are they, filthy little buggers
And part black mold as they exhale death and misery
What's worse, they breed rabidly

Never since Oedi
All That GlittersHeart etched in stone
fickle beauty
shallow symbol of love
HandsI gave my hands to a palm reader,
and she saw through winged glasses,
through the etching of lines like hairs
like dancing spider's footsteps on my palms
what caused the feathering in the crossroads
of my heart line, and the ever present hangnails
parasitic on my skin.

She saw them soften in sinks, soap and hot water,
the persistent blue smudge beneath the third finger's
joint, the freckles painting me: Irish Spanish
Gypsy and yet somehow still English rose,
the lone marriage line telling how I'll only love once
(and myself thinking once quite optimistic,
with my innate selfishness) and all the while

seeing the way that, sometimes, my hand
Privacy Is DeadThere is no such thing as a secret
Privacy is a right no one can now obtain
Through acts of selfish maniacal arrogance
They used tragedies and deaths to restrain

Those in society who dare speak out
Are threatened mocked and scorned
While the very things we take in
Become the foot-piece of voices adorned

In power and vanity with our lives
Being the games they twist and claim
So when the darkness clouds come in
No one can speak out and denounce the name

Of the darkness rising higher
Choking the life out of you
Feckless in it's power and vice
It is the face of everything you do

Deepening and darkening they spy
Upon us as we go about our mer
Freeverse #2Distant hands reach out,
And grab unsuspecting victims.
Entombing them in a veil of mist,
And mysticism, enhanced
By the internal void ever
Present in the collective heart
Of Humanity.

As hands grope, explore and touch,
Their unfortunate prey finds itself
Shivering in selfish delight, bottom lip
Clenched not by forced desire
But by a desperate longing
For a feeling; to be wanted
And lusted after.

And so the veil loses its mysticism,
Its mist and its ‘distant hands;’ for
They are replaced by a lover’s touch,
A kind whisper in your ear and a selfless
Friend whom will always be there for you.
A friend who will never let
Glass: A Criticism of SocietySome laughing and some crying
Born living and leave dying
The pale reflection on a dusty window pane
Of a cluttered damp room
By the light of the moon:
Possessed by misery's refrain

Some perceive life as an amber glass that's filled
Its golden ichor bustles all the way up to the brim
While others see it watered, weakened, and distilled
To inject their auburn glass with sin

And to sit at the throne created by conceit
The shattered glass, the rusted iron,
Corroded, cracked: ruined concrete
And as you sit upon that sullen throne,
You ponder: "Is my consciousness alone?"
Free to roam the universe
But no script nor written verse
Will ever offe
youI gave myself away
you didn't ask for my innocence
but took it freely
WishShe had more freckles on her hands
then there were stars in the sky.
Her eyes were like broken glass
colored green by a sharpie.
When I saw her I knew I loved her,
but she was not capable of loving me.

The light in her eyes was distant
and beautiful like the moon’s.
When she spoke her words curled
around her face like smoke.
When I saw her I knew I loved her,
but she was not capable of loving me.

She forever smelled like cinnamon
and lost time.
Her smile was soft,
but as ferocious as a lion’s
When I saw her I knew I loved her,
but she was not capable of loving me.

My heart did break.
It shattered, when it slipped from her han
dustdecay rust and love
this is what the universe comes to
we are the hollow men
especially me

abandoned highways
america the beautiful
three hundred years and
Katrina she spoke (un)to me
“Moses, forty years has come too late.”

my girl she knows not
    her own strength
my generation
    gods and monsters: end of times
they’re what I’m talkin’ ‘bout
wub-wub
wub-wub
wub wub to dirty ears

pre-view apocalyptic post-men
neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the
winds of change
and I know not

her, majestic blue eyed dove
outstretched arm, fingers reaching
towards her sisti
sad shoesthree hundred
and eighty-four
thousand
shoes
have been sent
from Auschwitz
to Germany
take a pair
(what?
it's only
shoes)
wear them;
walk a mile
and tell me
how you feel
in the absence of a protesta piss-warm week-end
and the flock of quasi-contrarians
ambles from square to square,
girls, visionaries -
sundae heated ground/wading through the excrement
and scrubbing pigeon droppings from
white hair. (nothing
happens)

absurdist conceptions
surface and resurface and
subside again,
like a herd of
curious seals they
flash their latex muzzles.

when they scatter,
crowds will scatter too,
skewered in the comfort of the wheel of history,
(branded with a fried-black hole that is called
confidence
and "you can't fight distrust")
used to being used.

so we laugh
we laugh as we're being led to another bloody golgotha

but it lies so far
Browse More Like This
Download File
HTML, 978 bytes more ▶

More from ~nonconformist90

Cherished FriendsCollection of friends I’m proud to have and brag about  
Gifted, witty, creative, silly, playful, with genes varied,
Loud, quiet, flawed, funny, talents hidden and buried
Sundry bag of pleasant surprises no one can doubt

Mine field of treasure I highly cherish but willing to share
Come and meet them as I am sure you’ll like them
Each has their silly quirks and endearing wares
All have a unique style matching their own essence

I know each one by heart where they’ll stay never to part
Because I come to know and cherish each one from the start
Some of them have yanked my chain, leaned on my nerves
And caused me pain but
Episode of Silliness...When you thought I wasn't looking
I caught those stolen glances laced
with sweetness mild
Acted as if I did not catch them
though I've collected it locked in my heart

When you thought I wasn't looking
I felt how much you care
as you tried to mask it
with your brazen silence and seriousness
betrayed by your jealous eyes

When I thought you weren't looking
I tried to hide how I miss your playfulness
Pretended to never notice your bold schemes
wrapped in tenderness and mischief
How we've been jolted by innocent jests

When you thought I wasn't looking
and I thought you weren't looking
That must be the moment we both
have tru
Impromptu: April DrizzleWoke up early to be greeted
By a tap and a whistle
so steady and free as it dribbles
when words drip out of my pen
to fly and soar towards hearts
finding a home they can call their own

Afloat mesmerized I tumbled out
of billowy comfort to listen lazily
still anchored in a lullaby's melody
Greeted by leftover shadow
Today is yesterday's 'morrow
I welcome both joy and sorrow

Gray days of sunshine that's how
I chose to embrace rain's vow to row
Misty morn of unseen grace wraps
to engulf cold hearts as embers gasps
Solitary owl complains as it pours
tears of desolation no one to console
He chose to remember...He was still in God's memory of present and distant past
Not even a babe his cry and smile a ghost none can clasp
Memory of his history seems well-etched with no lapse
Servitude to force and fear symbols of gruesome iconoclast
Inspiration eternal in his breast beating from the very start
Visions of freedom with justice clamoring hope unmarred

Love for his country none can deny teems in his veins
With virtues though frail making nobles hush and blush
Reflecting divine essence sublime but unaware he is of such
Lessons of shameful and seductive lies, tears dare wash
No! His spirit cried... Learn from it do not cast it aside
Deceit abo
Console Him... I Tried...He is very near but can’t reach him
He’s close by but can’t touch him
He seems lost but there’s no where to find him
Console him I tried, the pain he buried deep inside

He’s changed and I see why
Deep emotions engulfed his heart profound
He’s altered I understand how
Console him I tried, sorrow and grief so keen gauntly lingered by

He is here yet distantly far, take heart my friend rescue isn’t very far
Abiding love forbid to fade from his and mine succor in our fight
He is present but only shadows of him I glimpsed yet I know I’ll find him
Console him I tried, wait I must for his sp
Opposite CharmsI say colors he says shades of gray, I see glad he sees sad
I feel mad; he’s puzzled because he felt none
I like to run he doesn’t see it as fun
I prefer classical yet he’ll be surprised I like fast beat once in a while
I see numbers he sees signs what comical pair we are!
We have tension pulling us apart what chance do we have?

I hear melody he failed to understand
He seems innocent but naughty and mischievous all at once
I maybe naïve and ultra calm he never dare ask what sweet secrets I hide
He wonders what and who am I with his intense gaze he analyze
I too am wary of his intentions behind his words and actio

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

July 3, 2009
978 bytes
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 0
Favourites: 2 [who?]


Views: 14,021 (0 today)
Downloads: 341 (0 today)

License

Creative Commons License
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
[x]

Not My War, Not My Revolution

:iconnonconformist90:

Not my war, not my revolution
echoed my confused and guilty generation
Not my problem, not my headache
those decisions are not mine to make
Not my issues, not my concern
This war we usurp to start and burn
Not my dilemma, not my pickle
I didn't carry the hammer nor sickle
Not my father, not my mother
Why do I need to even bother...
Not my husband, not my wife
I live a quiet and comfortable life
Not my son, not my daughter
I live for the now not the here after
Not my nephew, not my niece
But I want my freedom and peace
Not my grandson, not my granddaughter
I'm too weak, old, and hang-over
Not my friend, not my neighbor
I'm invincible to death's vigor
Not my wake, not my funeral
Apathy flashing on Times Square's mural!
:iconnonconformist90:
How, much more spilt blood from this ancient hate shall flow to flood?
No comments have been added yet.

Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy