Sta.sh
Wow! The response for this has been HUGE!!! Thank you so much all of you who have participated! Don't forget to add #CRLiterature to your watch as well as replying to all these wonderful comments! 
An extra special surprise geared towards this edition of Ladies of Lit, so keep your eyes peeled! Please note: My Spotlight Deviant will return in April!
Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests, and spotlighting a specific group every week. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.
ing this News Article.
One-hundred weeks that is. In that time I've really come to appreciate how active and passionate the Literature Community on dA is; this community is truly amazing and I'm honored to be a part of it. And what better way to celebrate than to spread a little love and hand out some prizes? It's also a good excuse for me to hug you all.
Share what you love about the Lit Community, your reason doesn't need to be long, it could be a few words or a few sentences. Be as specific or general as you want!
Communal Karma
Hello there and welcome to the first ever Communal Karma. This will (hopefully) be a new monthly feature I will do.
In the Communal Karma series I will highlight the devious little squirrels who have suggested DD's in the past month. To do this I will collect the names of the suggesters from the past months DD's. I am aware, of course, that many other deviations are being suggested to our lovely and all powerful overlords but I don't have access to those!
The point of this feature is to make those who support the literature community get seen themselves, a karmic reward for doing good and expecting nothing in return. It might also encourage more people to suggest incredible literature for the site-wide feature, which is also great because it means that the CV's will have eyes and ears all over the site finding amazing unseen gems to share with the rest of us.
Suggesting a Daily Deviation is a very kind thing to do. It doesn't happen at the click of a button and these people made conscious decisions to try to get a piece of literature more attention. So in return I will be highlighting some of their work. Please fave, watch, enjoy.
The Community Volunteers
Aside from the fact that they are the conduits for the DD's ending up on the site footer they also quality control the DD's and suggest their own favourites to be seen. Just because they have a hat doesn't mean they shouldn't get a thank you. So without further ado...
^NicSwaner
"the fibers of the brush imbibed like artificial roots"
Bitlets 50Today I introduced Manray to Pollock.
They made a photonegative night sky
but didn't know what to call it. Handed
it to me so I could name it as I saw fit—
then I let them know— don't hold out
the portrait without the canvas.
Only as Old"Frail bones predict what fragile minds can't detect,"
He trailed off slowly, "And my bones are achin'."
The air around me hung low and depressed,
Sticking to the back of my throat like a stormy syrup
I'd tried to swallow down.
I peered out the kitchen window
And caught an inklet of patched-over-grey sky;
I wondered what was in store for the day.
Impartial to the gloom outside, we stepped out onto the back porch;
Grandpa wobbled out with his cane in hand and we waited.
In the hushed stillness the trees traded birds—
Robins, swallows, whippoorwills, and cardinals.
If you squinted hard enough at the sullen shrubbery,
You could
The Other ColorWith an inhalation of breath and mind he realized
He had always found it effortful to depict
And portray the apperception of the paints
And the ethos of the ink to another
Individual who had wandered out of room.
But they were not out of mind, and the premise
To call their presence nearer was an undeniable
Determinant in his whirling to look behind him,
Finding nothing but the morning dust lurking like
A ghost that had misplaced its haunting.
But the dust offered no criticism, response,
Or interpretation. He turned back to his work,
And the music that eavesdropped on his inspiration
Traipsed on, changing tracks.
That was when t
"ashen blue hues were singed by coral cinders"
^Beccalicious
"Between bitter sips
warmed chests, clutched hands,
we sit in comfort of this liquid"
Cup of Tea Promise
A cup of tea promise
starts, watered down
lies and coffee
depression.
We take a breath,
inhale the aroma of the mug,
accept what we find,
we drink to our own distaste.
Between bitter sips
warmed chests, clutched hands,
we sit in comfort of this liquid--
as if an elixir of life
snuck into the drink.
Despite cups with cracks and chips
we grip our mugs for comfort
and smile.
"I can only harp
a meagre song, which even the winds
refuse to carry."
`thorns
"The stench of defecation burned her throat and stung her eyes. Beneath the smell of unwashed beast and excrement was the familiar scent of a slow dying. Infection. The prisoner was likely harmless for the time being then."
A Dinosaur for AprilHeart in her throat and belly in knots, April Kinsey knelt in the grass and straightened her finest dress over her knees. The surrounding group of family and strangers remained silent, watching her every breath.
Shirtless beneath his tribe's blue plaid, her future mate knelt, towering over her. He stood taller than even her grandfather, who was the largest man April had ever seen. A young man of seventy-two, his broad shoulders and thick muscles intimidated her. A large gold amulet with his family's crest hung around his neck and glinted in the moonlight.
Roy McGregor, third son of the Drago Tribe leader, intended to mate her of all people.
Minotaur 1.1Death's acrid stench clung to the air around Varan. The sickly rot of infection bubbled up, oozing from his shoulder. There was nothing he could do chained to the stone wall with a guard at the door. Arrow splinters trapped in his flesh were killing him slowly.
His death should have been swift on the battlefield, but instead he was ambushed while he bathed. He'd cut down seven men before the poisoned arrow made him too weak to lift his ax. The poison wasn't lethal, unfortunately. Its purpose was to render him unconscious for interrogation.
His sire, the famous Conqueror of Brundan, must be laughing from the afterlife. Even shame failed to g
Mother Nature's WrathThe supposed deity, Mother Nature, was always present on the backwater planet. The bitter cold wind, stinging Bosch's face and ruffling his fur, was a constant reminder of her wrath. At least the sun was shining as he trudged through the deep snow.
"Machu's hungry." Shelly, his small human mate, lagged behind him. The snow was knee deep for her, but she struggled through without complaint.
He did not speak her language, but the translator implanted in his ear understood most human words.
"Soon." In the distance, he still saw the human structure they had escaped. He had killed the humans, but now they were in a race against time. Rescue was
"The sickly rot of infection bubbled up, oozing from his shoulder."
^neurotype
"Upstairs, the bathwater bloomed red."
Evil Woman"My husband doesn't know." She kept her hands folded and head down.
"I think you should tell him," I said, not asking whether she was referring to the baby or…the trait. I pushed my glasses back. "Look, I was an ultrasound tech once. I've been a genetic counselor for twelve years. I've never seen anything like this. Are you sure?"
Her head rotated upward. Her hands moved over the bump in her clothing. But, instead of protectively encasing the tiny lifeform, she started pressing against it. Trying to expel it.
"Calm down," I said. I reached over my desk and gripped her shoulder for a moment until she flicked my hand off.
"Calm down? T
"Normal ultrasounds show the baby as a lighter blur of lines and shapes. In this completely unedited image, fresh from the doctor's office, the baby was shadow. On a dark background, it was an even emptier space, a pitch black stain."
`JZLobo
"He had a rather strange face, but not the strangest they had on file."
The Fifty-Ninth MinuteWith increasing regularity, the Earth was coming under threat by alien menaces other than the Decepticons. It made sense, the Autobot known as Pyro supposed; the planet was both out of the way and ideally located, depending on where you were coming from. Or which way you were going. The universe was funny like that.
Pyro, in the guise of a firetruck, regarded the man that climbed inside him. He had a rather strange face, but not the strangest they had on file. (Personally, his favorite was the "teeth and curls" look.) This was a new face, all flat and nose and long hair. And his clothes were strange. He had always had questionable fashion sense, but it had always leaned more towards the old-fashioned and less towards the... hm, "singed raggedy."
"Hello, Doctor," the Autobot said once they were rolling. Pyro increased his speed; they hadn't much time.
The man looked surprised for a moment. He glanced towards the passenger seat and the seats behind him to see if he had missed anyone, but
One is the Loneliest NumberOptimus Prime wasn't sure why he had come here. The journey to "Dinobot Island" and Black's laboratory had an almost dream-like quality in his memory banks and he had only gotten here five cycles ago. He'd managed to avoid the Dinobots during his journey, thankfully - he didn't want to be bothered. But now he was here and wondering just what force had compelled him to make this expedition.
He stood motionless as he recalled the last time he had been here, some weeks ago. Blackarachnia had extorted him to fetch a component for Prometheus Black so he could experiment on her and the scientist had, of course, betrayed her. Optimus had acted with
Wolf BrothersHe had always known he was different from the other wolves. And therein lay the key of his difference: knowing. When he looked into the eyes of his packmates, they did not flicker with the candlelights of souls behind them. The same complicated emotions that he himself felt, he could not sense coming from his brethren. In a way, he envied them. They all seemed so blissful, so content, even in moments of strife. Just being different was enough to weigh heavily upon him, and the fact that he could comprehend worry when the others could not became in and of itself a vicious cycle. Was there something wrong with him? Why did existence itself have
"He didn't despise her techno-organic body; what disturbed him more was the Decepticon sigil she now wore on her neck."
The Serial Suggesters
These little gems suggested more than one thing that got DD'ed since the 10th of December...
*0hgravity
- Five DD's suggested"like the tiny scratching of insect legs and wings in neglected corners"
The Waste WorldShe said create the world, so I did. I made it dark and dusty, coughed up from my own black lungs. I gave the trees an ashen hue and the ground a color to match the starless sky. The creatures were murmuring oozes, globs of drying acrylic that inked across the orb of my bubbling imagination.
Repulsing, it was in fact the product of an industrial mind. I was born from man's smog goddess and, if memory serves me, her breath was laced in exhaust which I inhaled nightly with her songs. She was soothing and complacent, her voice smokey like a hazy bar. No one could deny her features were hideous beyond belief. Her skin dripped pollution like morp
"The creatures were murmuring oozes, globs of drying acrylic that inked across the orb of my bubbling imagination. "
=LadyofGaerdon
- Five DD's suggested"We chased unfamiliar coastlines,
crossed a continent of earth,
abandoned Northwest shorelines
like broken shells upon the beach;"
Sehnsucht - The Winter FaeKatie stormed out the front door about a minute after arriving home. Her parents were at it again. The argument had progressed to the point where neither one was making any effort to keep their voices down. It didn't matter that Katie had SATs to study for. There was no chance of that with her parents screaming their heads off about - what was it this time? Katie listened.
Oh, God. The hairbrush. They're fighting about the hairbrush again.
That was enough for Katie to slip back out to the porch, pull on her rollerblades and go. She didn't want to be here if the cops showed up again.
Her friends liked to make fun of her for rollerblading.
"Who still does that?"
"You should try skateboarding instead - at least then you might attract some cute skater guys".
"Rollerblading? Seriously?"
Katie tried to ignore them. They didn't understand her need to escape, not just her house but her life. To Katie, rollerblading was freedom. It
Saltwater VeinsWe chased unfamiliar coastlines,
crossed a continent of earth,
abandoned Northwest shorelines
like broken shells upon the beach;
drove straight ahead, towards looming Atlantic,
laid down roots in an East Coast state
without a shoreline.
But I missed my rocky beaches,
crashing waves swirling sea-spray
against wind-reddened cheeks,
breathing life into salted lungs.
So we chased the Atlantic northward,
up the coast, snaking up Route One,
a wending wave of rocky coastline.
I leaned to touch the water,
and it flowed fast from my fingers -
'til I turned, and
the Atlantic chased me up the beach,
caught me fast in its swell,
froze me in place as seafoam
lapped hungry at my heels,
swallowed ankles seasoned with brine.
My feet sunk into sand
locked between sea and shore
unable to move for fear of falling,
of being swallowed whole.
Then gentle waves released me
sopping wet against the sand
And now I feel the pull
of coastlines east and west
tides rent me from within,
s
"seafoam
lapped hungry at my heels,
swallowed ankles seasoned with brine."
*xlntwtch
- Three DD's suggested"Sometimes on a quiet night
due to my perversity,
or perhaps my common nature,
I dream awake of what may happen
should my twin die before me."
THAT Woman First they said, "No wind chimes outside the cottages. Three warnings will be given, then you are subject to eviction."
My Granny said, "Humph. I like my old bamboo windchime. I can't even reach it no more to take it down. It's gonna stay, dammit, and I will too."
I told Granny, "Not if they evict you, you won't. I can take it down."
She looked at me over her reading glasses, with that Look she has.
"If anyone's evicted, you can go with em, Sonny. I'm stayin put. Me and that damn windchim
Lucky Number Which would she do? Eat more chocolates or buy a pack of cigarettes?
Only the New Year would tell. And the New Year spoke. She'd do both. She never was one to stint on much.
"Well, Jiminy, why don't you face reality?" she asked her loving husband. How loving was he?
"I'm not going to sit here and watch you put trash in your mouth," Jim said.
His voice was too calm. That meant he was angry.
"I can't help it," she said, trying for a victim pose.
"You can do anything you put your mind to, and you know it," he said.
"What do you mean?" Alice whined. "I'm getting fat ever since I stopped smoking."
The Perversity of WeSometimes on a quiet night
due to my perversity,
or perhaps my common nature,
I dream awake of what may happen
should my twin die before me.
I may be walking calm and laughing
down city street or red rock ridge
and she would reach me over the miles
reaching straight to all five senses
reaching intense with her actions
reaching deep inside me.
Stronger than telepathies
often had when we were kids
stronger than futile restlessness
unexplained 'til mail arrives,
stronger than what may surround me
I know how she would reach me.
I would see her clear as day,
clearer than the sights around me
and I'd know her way of going
and h
"stronger than futile restlessness
unexplained 'til mail arrives,"
=SilverInkblot
- Three DD's suggested" I wiped the powdered sugar off your nose; you always ate the funnel cake before anything else. I grabbed your hand as we passed by the swings.
It felt like flying."
Recycled DreamsI was halfway down the second floor apartment stairs when I realized I'd left my left arm on the table.
It's no surprise of course, for I've always had a habit of misplacing important things like keys, documents, and identification cards, but to leave one’s arm on the table is truly embarrassing. I would have run back to get it, but the bus driver is always a bit early on Tuesdays and I could already hear the distant hum of the engine making its way to me. And it's not like I really need it for work anyway. So I left it behind.
It's penguins and oranges today; my latest client is a fairly normal one. The last dreamer wanted marsupia
Drowning in Reverse x. I still have your phone.
ix. The boardwalk carnival was shut down a few months later, roped off and boarded up like a condemnation of joy. The ferris wheel still rose high above the skyline, towering in silent reminder.
viii. The funeral was on a beautiful, balmy, sunny day and somehow that made it all the worse. The wind would pick up a little and ruffle your goldspun hair and I could hope, just for a moment, that you were still here.
vii. It was a cold, white room. I don't know why hospitals are so cold. Or maybe it was just me - maybe it was just me trying to siphon out all of my warmth and channel it into you.
vi. I didn't see the
UnreadI found my own book in the local used book store. The one I spent half of my life writing. The one that spent two years in the editing process. The very one that I autographed for my lover and found in the fifty cent bin of what used to be my favorite book store.
"The boardwalk carnival was shut down a few months later, roped off and boarded up like a condemnation of joy."
`OfOneSoul
- Two DD's suggested"Swans and wings are floating by
on a breeze imbued with jasmine"
Winter Storms"I know I shouldn't."
Thor stared at the metal grates beneath his feet. His armor had grown heavy since the Avengers' victory against the alien invasion. Now that a war was prevented, he had to face his inner battle. Would he risk losing his brother again?
He sat in the back of the armored hummer provided by S.H.I.E.L.D, ignoring the trace blonde hairs that fell around his face. In a way, he hoped they hid his indecision. He brushed his hand against the side of his chin, relishing in the familiar sound of his stubble scratching his callused palms.
A low, muffled scoff resonated from the other side of the vehicle. Thor leaned back against t
Submerged in Swan Lake
Swans and wings are floating by
on a breeze imbued with jasmine and
willows outstretching their arms in welcome.
Through deep breaths he arrives
plunged in murky, pungent water.
A quiet whisper, and he prays -
"Please... may I linger here?"
Willows lower their arms
and jasmine falls to the Earth
where the wind dies and finally rests.
The crows are cawing hymns,
begging to be swans.
But only the duck submerged in Swan Lake
has delved the desired shore.
Its waters dangerous and plagued
by monsters baring their teeth;
most ghastly and putrid they are
that no crow may ripple its surface
nor any songbird seeking beauty fair.
The Swan M
Dear Daddy's GirlDear Naive 15,
You're ignorant as Hell.
You dress in baggy blue jeans, wear an oversized hoodie every day, and never let your hair down. Students at school, and even your mom, think you're gay… and you don't even know.
All of your classmates blame you for a burn book that circulated after that Mean Girls movie. Everyone thinks you're a jealous bitch and secretly they mock you. How can you not see that?
Your teachers are all positive that you cut yourself and that you're always on drugs. Even now you have no idea why they ask you to take your jacket off during class. Could it be that you always wear long sleeves?
It's okay, sweetheart.
"Through deep breaths he arrives"
`LiliWrites
- Two DD's suggested"They will translate
your nose into an apostrophe
your smile to the front side
of a parentheses,"
BoyMany women will write poetry
from you. They will translate
your nose into an apostrophe
your smile to the front side
of a parentheses, the back
to tears only once admitted.
They will filter your father's ashes
into adverbs that define your fingers
quaking along skin and sin
toward fibrous paper.
They will dismiss your flaws
as improperly placed commas
or periods born before their time.
They will inspect, perfect
& infect you with emotions
you never learned to muster.
But none of them will know
you as I did: a boy, bent
beneath the waves of love
and glad for it.
"winter's fingers dampen
summer's flame;"
*UnspecifiedUnknown
- Two DD's suggested"drowned cortex-deep, hearing still"
Reversed Singularity? but of time, i do digress
& my intentions have been writ
in sumerian, and dreamt; but
here to live obsolete:
swift swing, precarious pang
with my heart's guiltless intention
--fingernails scratch & fit
your name; tasting still
succulence, feeling still
tyranny of will, being still
drowned cortex-deep, hearing still
--the wisp of a faltered laughter
sheltered & swaying & playing
amongst the dead, the horned
honoured and torn, formed
long and forlorn'd--
oh time, my bittersweet demise
dying is no longer a sacred art
and is sincerity in its purest form
cloaked with fault & artless bourne
primordial existencei remember the day we vesseled our miscarriage
into the banner of rest.
we struck your fossilized eyes
at the core of our nuclear winter, buried in the brotherhood
of a thousand industrialized, crawling suns-
but these tomorrows only trialed
the inconsistency of young communication, of
replacing weeping angels by grave with
plastic roses. of clocking the reversed stature
and foregone insistence of raising left hands
to dead gods. and when we meter
cursor lights with its waking blinks
compounded by millenniums and eons and times
before the fallout, before the indolent hereafter,
our war of thin metal and curious mistrust
will sure
Ingenueshe lives off petrichor.
sometimes she'll spend her lonesome days watching the soft spell of rain
reach the depths of cyclic whispers and paradoxical breaths, lost behind her sleepless eyes.
she laughs at gravity.
sometimes she'll notice how the broken inertia of her body is nothing but a reflection of
the chemistry given between her grief and the afterglow of beautified language.
she smiles.
sometimes she'll break the bullets caught in her teeth and mould the tired fragments into something worth loving.
"sometimes she'll notice how the broken inertia of her body is nothing but a reflection of
the chemistry given between her grief and the afterglow of beautified language."
=Lucy-Merriman
- Two DD's suggested"In a garden dressed in jades,"
The Silent Girl They had consumed all the animals first. Perhaps they thought it was a mercy.
It's hard to tell how much the necro-kai think, how much the electrons pinging around in their brains have re-awakened any kind of logic or conscience,
Even with his powerful skills in reading, Gryffon couldn't get past the scrambled code, the disfigured ruin of what was once a brain that thought in terms of language and numbers, now wrapped with layers of overlapping images. Visions painted one over another in a cloudy mess by the possessing soul, reminiscent of the fragmented thoughts of the schizophrenic. It's a wonder they can even walk around without bumping
Dear Sir[Lights up on CLAUDE. He's holding a letter, standing.]
CLAUDE:
Dear sir,
We regret to inform you
That your (that place with cream walls and dog hair where warm nights are cracked by
broken windows
&
The Kingdom SesquipedaliaOnce upon a time
In a garden dressed in jades,
Sat a little girl with a little book
Staring at the empty page.
She peered up at her dragon friend,
Who lounged about the branches.
She sighed and flopped into the grass,
Feeling summer breezes' dances.
But she wasn't at all peaceful;
Ideas crashed and groaned
Inside her head like wild bulls.
To her dragon friend she moaned,
"I want to tell a story!
Spin a yarn you haven't heard.
I must regale you with a tale...
But first I need some words.
I don't know quite where to start,
But I know you're more loquacious.
Maybe you can help me find
Some words suitably bodacious?"
The drago
""Sorry miss," the vendor said,
"Just obfuscations--clarity, I lack.
But if you need vexing or perplexing,
Then I've got your back!""
=futilitarian
- Two DD's suggested"I've sat side-by-side with soot-blackened old London as he coughed and swore over his vinegared eels."
Vegetable heartI moved in with my brother's family that May as a temporary measure after my emergency repatriation left me momentarily financially unsteady. I detest the suburbs above all else. Despite that, it was such a relief to be free from the somewhat unfortunate situation I'd landed myself into in Jeddah (long story; my fourth wife's oil sheikh father took exception to my infidelity), that for the first couple of weeks I relaxed into it. I walked the kids to school, mowed the lawn, and generally made myself useful in the hope that I would not outstay my welcome before one or other of my little investments paid out. It wasn't long before the subur
"It's the suburbs I can't stand. Neither one thing nor the other. I never met a suburb yet I liked. They're either confused old yokels wondering where all the fields went or young slick wannabe cities on the make. And either way, they're always so bitter about it."
The Singular Suggesters
and last, but definately not least, these marvelous deviants suggested something that got DD'ed since the 10th of December...
*Namicat101
Earth, our Home Land. Would I like to live forever? Is that what most people want? To live forever? That's not my question though, my question is, would you like to help the earth live forever.
Today is Earth Day, the day we are here to help the earth, not destroy it. But are we too selfish to see that? The fact that were not only destroying the earth but we are also destroying our ancestral lands, the lands in which we came from, we are erasing our history.
We came from the Earth, we didn't descend from the sky or rise from the ground. We are like all other animals, we cant be explained. The earth is our mother, shelter and the giver of wants an
"We came from the Earth, we didn't descend from the sky or rise from the ground."
`lintu47
"with empty faces and inert minds"
Dorinta - Desire
Dorinta
Singura printre straini, posesoare a unei vieti inutile si absente,
Mi-as fi dorit sa fi fost eu omul vitruvian prea bine cunoscut de toti
Sa radeti la mine fascinati si prosti, cu fata goala si mintile inerte
Iar eu sa strig pe jumatate rastignita ca nu va merge totul ca pe roti.
Desire
Alone among the strangers, possessor of an useless and absent life,
I would have liked to have been I the Vitruvian man, well known by all
For you to laugh at me, all fascinated and stupid, with empty faces and inert minds
And I, halfway crucified, to shout that not everything will go as planned.
Pierdut pe coridor - Lost on the corridor
Pierdut pe coridor
Sunetul pasilor rataciti pe coridoare pustii si reci ma inconjoara
Ecoul rasuna gol in ureche si se prelinge incet in mintea-mi inghetata
Strabat pierdut de prea mult timp calea spre visul dorit odinioara
Nu simt, nu vad, nu pot s-ating ale trecutului umbre care ma doboara.
Am incetat de mult sa mai traiesc cu adevarat, si totusi trupul,
Osanda sufletului chinuit tinut cu forta in pieptu-mi rece, obosit,
Nu a inceput inca sa se descompuna.
Ce ciudat… iar pasii rasuna din nou pe coridorul intunecat.
Eu sunt ori altul care bantuie nelinistit amintirile demult uitate?
Ma uit in trecut, nu vad nimic, ma-ntreb
Music
Music is candy for the ears
And medicine for the soul;
Is the sound your heart makes
Everytime it hears "I love you".
:heart:
"the sound your heart makes"
=star-blazer
"The last bit of ink that clung to the quill bled into the paper where he stopped, leaving a deep stain which mixed with the words around it."
"a young, upper class officer who clung to the boot heels of his father to gain his title."
*lantern-rose
"Satellite asks you
what are you waiting around
here for"
AbsorbedFingertips hold the edge of pages absorbing their moisture. A piece of me to you.
Mesmerized eyes lock into scripture. Opening the door.
And now, I'm with you. Beside you. Inside you.
I now sit in a dark room theater among rows of empty chairs. I get one ticket and only one is allowed entry at a time.
The fashion is Gothic, Victorian, elegant. Curtains are held still, pulled satin fastened to the wall like a human statue, hard and soft.
The screen glows brightly and the show is mine.
After sometime of absentmindedly shifting in my seat and occasionally eating popcorn, I sleepwalk over to the silver screen, absorbing like a sponge in mil
angel ash and face paint whispersSatellite asks you
what are you waiting around
here for, fragmented breath
and climb useless limbs
shake the withered tree
Even beauty grows in winter
death as we know it seems
the ending, the autumn, the falling
negotiates the way to
trespass frozen lips and decay
peaceful grave, climbing Jacob's ladder
Bide to wake for a message
a headache, unconventional
commitment, nautin of inspiration
deliverance is a snowflake
carpenters do not negate
Blint the architect can only talk of
steps never known,
through moss thrones
and ivy slightly awry
quiet, creeping, slow
under staircase groves
and monotones
angel ash and face paint whispers
She PlaysShe plays the piano
Just like an angel
Taking strides of her own
With folded wings
Clasped about her skin
As fingers intertwine
And hands do not rest,
But instead move
Across the keys
Unlocking the doors
Of a child's heart
As she sways
Into the Movements
Of a woman
The intensity of
Eyes permeates the air
Even as they are
Lowered
To the stepping stones
Where raindrops wept
A million tears
Creating Oceans
That spanned across
The sands
And forever flow
No matter how torrent
Or impalpable
She eases into that
Steady Motion
As her vessel
Gently rocks
The sunsets
Until the door is closed
And the song has
Ended, and
"through moss thrones
and ivy slightly awry
quiet, creeping, slow
under staircase groves
and monotones"
*Lahtiirah
-My Sin-
I never wanted it to be this way…
There was no premeditated plan or malicious intention,
In the creation of you my sin.
I never asked for the past I lived,
I didn’t plan the future I have,
Nor did I want what fell between.
I didn’t see the betrayal while it happened,
By my hand and action I still was blind,
Even when I though my lesson was learned it happened again.
Tell me My Sin, did you ever know,
That when our friendship was given life,
I smiled my first smile,
A crooked thing but true in its honesty.
I was naive in dreams, and stupid with hope,
But the smile was pure.
When our friendship died, My Sin,
Still
"When our friendship died, My Sin,
Still I smiled…
So sure I was for its rebirth I erred again in forgiveness."
~xTintedlullabyx
"I rub the lit embers into my leg, making it flicker and evaporate. The perfectly horrible sting makes me flinch."
Speak in Silence"Baby."
That's what he would call me: Baby.
"Baby," he'd call in his don't-wake-the-living voice.
(The knob turns and the door creeps open, the scent of him drowns the room. I stare into the splashes of darkness behind my eyelids and stay still – he has the eyes of Medusa, he is always watching, he has the eyes of Medusa, he is always – "Good girl," he coos.)
"Baby," he would moan, crushing my bony wrists beneath his forearm.
(Razor blades tear into my abdomen, or maybe it's my head. My screams are muffled against his chest, until I no longer bother to scream.)
"Baby," he'd say, his arms like prison bars, keeping me in Hell.
(Tears spi
I bet you cut"I bet you cut yourself," he says and it takes
All of me and more, and there is nothing to take. I laugh
and cry a little inside. Die a little more and smile
"Of course not."
He stares at me and it's like one of those dreams where you're
Naked and I want to shove my guts in my mouth and burn in Heaven,
rip my scalpel through my thigh, throw my skull at a window and let the
Pain in my body overwhelm the pain in my heart.
"I'm joking," he says and I think I should feel bad for him, instead I
Hate him a little. He's grinning and I think about how I'd love to
Carve his face into the Joker.
"I know," I say and I hate myself a little, t
But I Love Him"I love you," he says. I look at him through the hazy mist of tobacco. I rub the lit embers into my leg, making it flicker and evaporate. The perfectly horrible sting makes me flinch.
"Really?" I ask.
"Absolutely."
I roll my tongue in my mouth and keep my gaze on his blue eyes. "What do you want?"
"Ecstasy." His lips are on mine and I'm on autopilot. Suck. Nibble. Swirl tongue. Touch.
Kiss.
Ecstasy might mean sex for some couples but that isn't what he wants. That comes after. When he's so in love with life, he'll fuck anyone.
"Come on," he whines after I push him softly away. Softly, because if I push too hard, I might think I'm ang
"His breath reeks of brimstone"
`vespera
"they talk about your lungs, two sticky apricot halves,"
"They suppose maybe you have a cold,
you spent the afternoon kissing snowmen"
*glossolalias
"the kind of insufferable heat that beds itself beneath your clothes"
blasphemyin a Heaven no grander than a forest, He sat upon a throne weaved of ivy and wild roses; it was there He first touched the Universe, and it was there He came to find the thriving rock He named earth. absent lives were flitting about in oceans deep and dark, and He sought to make company, entertainment, using His vast power to manipulate these beings' path. they grew until they resembled His intention, but before the first man thought of the savannah's cruelty or had any thought besides instinct, angels were birthed of the Lord's passing thoughts—
He would breathe and exhale
lights that cuddled like sweet birds,
tucked close for warmth
spectresred unfurls
like silk scarves
underwater:
adrenaline,
steady fingers,
mute fascination:
curious and sharp,
glinting in flickers,
unfurled.
"the bipedal apes that learned fire and magic
and named other animals as if they had a right. "
~Kiresg
"Their skin reflected the starlight with a dull orange sheen."
SomedayJane and Ellis floated parallel to one another across the vast canvas of space, eyeing the marble-like planets that slowly crept past them. Their skin reflected the starlight with a dull orange sheen. Ellis had called it 'planet gazing,' an activity he apparently thought suitable for a date.
"Do you see that one below us?" Ellis said, pointing to a round blue mass.
Jane shrugged.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked. "I'll bet it's beautiful on the surface, too. Like the way the dust begins to spiral when a star is forming."
"Something like that," Jane said. She didn't understand his excitement. Planets were nothing interesting. They were just
~pinballwitch
"The night is freckled, too"
036. Precious TreasureHe welcomed the late summer rain. Thunderstorms that soaked him to the skin and lit up the sky—now that was what left him feeling more alive than anything else on earth. It was dangerous weather, but he liked that, too.
He dug his toes into the wet sand and spread his arms out wide, face turned up toward the storm. He breathed in the sea and the stormy air, and because this was the last time he'd smell a summer storm like this for a long time, he savored it. Normally, he drank it all in greedily, gulping it down like a drowning man gasping for air. But this one was special.
Nothing smelled as good as this, he thought to himself. Not one sin
034. Stars"The night is freckled, too," I tell Rosie, tapping the tip of her nose.
She gives me a dubious look.
She is only three years old, but she is just as spotted as the ancient starry skies.
A Strandwhen she strung together words, she didn't imagine that they should make sense--
one leading into another, with perfect order--
but rather she went for chunky beads, bold combinations, that--
while not cohesive from one to the next--
that were as beautiful lumped all together as the faces in a crowd
and just as senselessly
there.
"He breathed in the sea and the stormy air, and because this was the last time he'd smell a summer storm like this for a long time, he savored it. Normally, he drank it all in greedily, gulping it down like a drowning man gasping for air."
*Laura-Lie
"That ugly burgundy carpet had been ripped off of the ground, leaving a few stray staples behind in its wake."
Regards, The Abortionist.A letter came in the mail from a return address I wasn't sure existed for some time. It still did; the address was the exact same. The handwriting was quick and short, and the request seemed simple enough. I put on my coat and found myself walking down the street under a thick grey sky, one hand in my pocket and the other keeping my hat from being claimed by the wind.
The buildings grew dirtier the further east I travelled. Grime crawled up the sides of the walls from the sidewalk, and the sewer drains gurgled with yesterday's waste. A homeless man in a tattered version of my own coat held a tin cup out to me, mumbling something about s
The Silo Complex"You won't believe what I just saw in the field."
I sighed at Eloise in the doorway. "Another dead raccoon? How big was it this time? You know it's just maggots, right?"
"No, that wasn't it. I saw a man."
"Was it John?"
"No."
"Fox?"
"It was a man, but it wasn't really a man. Almost a man."
"Almost a man?" She had recently taken to wandering in the fields under gray skies, thinking that she'd find her answers among the abandoned farm equipment and rows of dried corn husks. She never did. Just raccoons. I never heard anything about men who
a post-apocalyptic christmas.Ember had been the one to bring up the idea of lights, after finding some in a tangled mess in a garage down the street. We were on a routine trip to scrounge for canned food and supplies. She'd held up the ball of glass and wire and said, "Wouldn't it be fun to do this again?"
"It's just like the good old days," she sighs to me now, and pulls down her hat when the wind begins to nip at the frost-burned of her forehead. She's got it worse on her toes, but her face never shows it. "We had them up every year."
I was leery of doing it at first. It may be too cold for the undead to emerge from their cavernous homes without freezing solid,
"Her eyelids fluttered like cold butterfly wings as she grew dizzy."
*intricately-ordinary
"They say you inhale saltwater
and exhale enlightenment."
Indefinite Tidesshe speaks in vinegar riddles
and bides her time in shipwrecked
smiles- she's
ticking off days for the boy
with stormy eyes who promised
he'd be back in a season or
two. he, who was
crafted from the leftover bits of the moon
and the meandering sky with runaway
stars lurking deep beneath his ribcage,
waiting to fall whenever he spoke
like a saint, whose divine sacraments
parted land and birthed lives; like a
sorcerer whose words launched a
thousand sunken ships but
now, she pops pills like reminders,
stabilizers that last 4-6 hours
depending on her ability to forget
and she's lost in herself
again, among faltering brainwa
Virgin QuietDear Vivian,
the unblooded angel who
weeps for me in my dreams -
why don't you make a sound?
shuddering in the corner,
conspicuous convulsions bring you closer
to me than anyone's dared -
why won't you breathe? is it so
hard to take in life that your
paper lungs are tearing?
where do you go? hiding between
the promises of salvation:
you are among the skeletons in
my closet where no one ever
lives; don't you know, oh
don't you know that morality
will make you a ghost?
they've draped you on a hanger;
your skin is an accomplishment,
bleached and rough and
unmarked by wanting hands.
your bones are gnawed, oh, look
at
Justifications and Salted Smiles"I don't think I'm holding on any longer
I'm diving in.
I wish that you would see,
there's a magical land at the bottom of the ocean
where waterproof lungs let you be
everything you've dreamed.
You can bury underneath the sand
and not be found-
it's the land that's been promised to me
in late night whispers
and burnt tears
wasted on things that don't matter.
I know it's real,
broken minds can't lie
and I can feel it in my bones-
there's something more.
What other reasons would we live for?
They say you inhale saltwater
and exhale enlightenment.
The waves pour over you
and finally make you clean (pure)
No one knows where y
"sweet tongue she carried, now
turned salty and bitter and
perhaps a little toxic
too, because regret always
tastes the same brand of
lethal."
`tiganusi
"smelling burning cane syrup
at rumdrunk full moon twilight"
Noircissons-nous one hand on a column
one on your hip I stand
stripped of any virtue
smelling burning cane syrup
at rumdrunk full moon twilight
our octoroons run
between rows of cane with leaves
as sharp as daggers
in zeal even blood falling
won't slow the dysrhythmic dance
we are the last ones
still here between our columns
and the still night
clawing each other’s hips
while others repent for us
A Legendthe prisoner turning his head to one shoulder
exhales a cardinal still wet
an egg yellow and half a shell
and watches silent
one wing at a time jitters
a leg flicks and a clenched foot
hops beside the shell as beakgulps
drink regurgitation like single malt
strengthening pushes feathers
out first like needles then like
toothbrushes stained scarlet by retracting
gums and flattened on railroad tracks
jitters evolve thought—slow flaps
spin air and lift dry-straw
bones in a tight swirl
whipping dust and rising
smoke from feathers too fastfluttering
together smells like the altar or
pall as ash cardinals descend to the
prisoner inhaling for rebirth
The Libra HusbandI.
they can get you
in East Hampton for wearing red shoes
on a Thursday
I don't know whether you knew
that--I mean--do you know
that?
II.
it's very hot in New York City
I like the terrible noise
you hear at night and all these terrible
drilling sounds--I never go to sleep
unless the whole pavement is jumping
outside and it's a hundred degrees
III.
when I go to New York City I see myself
--Where have you been?
--Where have you been?
--Where have you been?
--Where have you been?
this is the revolutionary costume:
I never wear this
in East Hampton.
IV.
I'm not gonna spend another winter
in East Hampton--
in the first place I can't
I just can't
I can't spend another winter
out here in the country
I can't do it
I'm telling you--I can't
I can't get my figure back
unless I hit New York City
V.
any little rat's nest
in New York City
any little mouse hole
any little rat hole
even on Tenth Avenue
I would like better
it's all a question
of who you want to
"I had my cake
loved it
masticated it
chewed it
and had everything I wanted"
~YogaTeacher
"As they splutter and writhe across the worm of your mouth"
PAPERsoft spouted tears-
airplane wisps, sodden note,
tendrils turquoise
labyrinthine
calligraphy spirals;
pattern unknown
walk the writ maze,
burnished letters glowing-
smoke and mirrors
letter at last
-cold token of an end-
blurred ink and mind
forsaken day!
sheets of comfort recoil
-words of demise
mine from afar,
swirling into your heart
through paragraphs
journey detained.
life isn't soft paper;
why should we be?
the world is over nowthe world is over now, and I’m scared
it used to be, I knew what was under my feet
these rusted words are stubborn
this dead time doesn’t want to be compared
to what went before; there’s a barrier, a compass
turning from what logic used to warn
now, a mimed world is bursting, to shudder apart
feel- the invisible nothings are agitated
the atoms are yearning to leave, what has left
the world has ended; it has run from its inhabitants
it has more strength, more wisdom in its bones
emptiness carries a foreboding coldness
clapped over my mouth; the ghosts can't know-
people, living as though they walk on earth
vines of our conviction, holding us upright
change is a manifestation of belief
what is real, by faith, remains groping
by foolhardy wisdom
in my optic
ServitudeHeart painted lips poke outwards as though mucous squeezed from an tender, shuddering eyeball. A frog pout and sucked in pink-tone cheeks battle for prominence on her round face. Poisoned yellow eyes swim, darting and floundering, in glaring ovals of cerulean paint. Eyebrows smothered, color gagged in virgin white over the chocolatey grey of her asthmatic skin. Unshined silver hair perches like the dried, immobile sand of a beach day castle on the tip top of her head. Dust hangs in the drapes of lace and chiffon oozing off her wasting body; it latches on like leeches, sticking to her bustle, her moth-eaten pettic
"Dried shavings of white paint picking off like scratched scabs, or flesh, molting?"
=AzizrianDaoXrak
"you have become
little more than an evening in pale watercolors—
the shadow of Monet."
Mermaid SongI have tried to love you.
But you have become
little more than an evening in pale watercolors—
the shadow of Monet.
I have decided to leave the lilies as they are.
Perhaps in later years, with desperation,
fearing the thinness of my thin limbs,
the creaking of my spider fingers,
I will go to wander those gardens again,
hoping for the promise of Eden,
clutching beads in my weary fist.
For now, you are fleeting as mermaid song,
brief as tall spires in pink and green beneath the sea—
I can never touch them.
Our connection fades,
a violet mirage
disappearing within the swells.
A wave breaks
Emo Hearts and Suicidal PoetryOutcasts they tend to call us,
The wierd ones,
The freaks.
But we like to think of ourselves as the special ones
With our permanent-marker doodles on our converses
Ripped jeans and emo hearts and suicidal poems written in the snow
Novels read beneath the covers 'til dawn by light of a flashlight
[batteries nearly dead we've used it so many times before]
And dancing in the rain
Praying to Beethoven
And tears at dusk
And singing to the stars
At the top of our lungs with the car windows open and the night rushing in
Or on the top floor of a beach house with the sea stretched out before us
"Go home, you lose, good day, sir"
Turn ar
December Buddha IIDecember cracks open like hazelnuts,
browned and dried from the November fires,
and brings with it the reminder to
live the forest that I am:
smoky and sprinkled with sage.
North Carolina Decembers are sunny enough—
they long for a quiet buddha-winter,
white and soft,
for someone to remind them that life
does not end with the New Year,
that time is a hazelnut, curling in on itself.
That it is my roots, a twining forest network
going on forever.
In the spring, I am not the forest fire.
I want a stream for floating hazelnuts
and will answer all your riddles with my cryptic
sage-answer: "time, time, time."
But I am no rain-bu
"a violet mirage
disappearing within the swells."
~Storyteller21
"Now all she had left of it were the calluses on her fingers."
"I swear you wear a darker coloured personality at school,” she said"
*ShadowedAcolyte
"which shamed me
behind embarrassed doors or along the beach
at sunrise or in my empty
exceptions:"
UnfruitUnfruit
There had always been an awkwardness
half-glances/changes of posture/unsaid thoughts
which
often convinced me of reciprocal
and more than just
intentions. Mostly,
though, I knew that I imagined everything
except the awkwardness which shamed me
behind embarrassed doors or along the beach
at sunrise or in my empty
exceptions: me/doubt/lust
twin-sized bed
especially the
unsaid t
She Wasn't Born This WayShe Wasn't Born This Way
You never mention the word "disorder" in certain company.
That's a defense mechanism, rewriting song lyrics in my head as the uncomfortable silence drags on. Not that it's really silent, ever, in a hospital. Machines whir in the background like insect hives, nurses flit (or stomp, depending on inclination) from bed to bed, and some janitor or orderly inevitably rattles by the room with a bucket of vomit or cart of soiled bedding.
So not quiet, then, but certainly uncomfortable. She avoids my eyes, fingering the roses on her lap. Everything in hospitals is blue-and-white, a sick, sterile periwinkle that I suppose i
"gamma ray bursts from nebular births
paint the cosmos in colors profane:"
~anapests-and-ink
"My teeth pop polyps
and shred cellophane skin."
TeatimeIn January, Elsa got new neighbors. She greeted them with apple cinnamon tea.
It gets so cold, here, they told her, shivering in overstuffed parkas. Snow had turned to mud in their front hall—an unavoidable side-effect of moving in winter. Elsa nodded along to their complaints and observations, silently brewing the tea in their kitchen. They were young; they had big plans. Allison and Steve, newlyweds, just starting out. They sat on the cold floor together, sipping with chapped lips. The house filled with cinnamon.
In April, Allison knocked on Elsa's door.
(1) A Prayer for the ChildSouth Central High, SCH, Schithole of extraordinary measure with pink walls glass nineteen-sixties shoe scuff nail polish finger print spiderweb cracked where Danny couldn't wait doors, three doors gushing angry empty post-pubescents, pre-pubescents angry, sad tired deep yawns teenagers, standing gawking silent contemplation, desperate to get in, desperate to be anywhere else. Thick tile (blue for boys in bathrooms and locker rooms; pink for little ladies in bathrooms and hallways; must we all be little ladies? no boys allowed in the open halls?) cracked aged caulking gone yellow and grey (grey sheets slumped on a clothesline in the dusk), scratched black by god knows what. Speckled linoleum with sneaker stains and gum stains and puke stains and blood? hair?
Answer this riddle: what flies when hormones rise and testosterone cries and gossip and cruelty beat on the masses, beat slaughter war drums deep in the chest, clobber the weak—Darwin says survival of the f
ClementineMy fingernails mangle
the mottled wax
shell. Citrine sap
caresses each bulge
as I lick away
mattress-foam veins.
My teeth pop polyps
and shred cellophane skin.
If only everything
could be this sweet.
"Jess twitches, twirls her hair, twists the ends, tilts her head doesn't listen (maybe listens?) doesn't care, doesn't know."
That's All Folks!
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`KathrynODriscoll 
You're so sweet. <3
). But I think I will keep coming back to this place, to slowly work my way trough all of them 
I might make it fortnightly so that its shorter and more often, but itll still be a lot of work!
Communal Karma #1by #LitLoveCommunity