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About Literature / Professional Official Beta Tester BrendanMale/United States Groups :iconword-smiths: Word-Smiths
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As of now I would vote for 

130 deviants said Bernie Sanders
36 deviants said Hillary Clinton
24 deviants said Donald Trump
10 deviants said Ted Cruz

Spring is Here

Journal Entry: Fri Apr 29, 2016, 5:16 AM
Awakening by FrostAlexisElf and dino by annemaria48Xoto by lalalandofcloudsMan At Sea- Warm by jsw123454Renounce Mortality by vampirekingdom
Nocturne IOutside in the square, a half-dozen men
with the sound of the bells,
burned alive. The colors are beautiful:
white over salmon, Apollo's chariot
of the sun. Twenty-foot ceilings, gold
ornament off the light. Men on the ground
trying desperately to speak.
Gasps, moans from the shadows
of the alley. 
When I was a child, I rhapsodized
about the world: expressive melodies,
clear textures, lightness,
passion. I used to see the safe
all the time. Dramatic arches
shrouded in a veil of tawny ochre
and ashen-gray mist. Broad
streets, Mozart's monumental
last symphonies on tables like altars
by candlelight.
Now, at today's ticket window
in the train's central station, holiday
travelers around a young
prodigy—almost blind, short,
bald—performing on a small bottle
covered only with a sack.
And on the bridge over the Rhône,
a pastel canopy over the people
walking, subdued
streetlamps, subdued
night sky—black trail
of her dress behind her,
gliding silently.
LamentA darkness nought can penetrate,
Abyss of purely desperate thoughts
The hollow dreams and piercing screams
Haunting consciousness and dreams
Though as they take and aim to break
Rising waters fill this lake
No cares ensnared shall ever bear
The fruits of this dense disrepair.
Limbo’s languishing lament,
A callous, cutting, crushing tide
That strips the bones and sears the skins
As we are all the same within
Where one would wield a weathered knife
With which to flay away a life
The experts in the room agree;
The mind creates death’s symphony.
How to turn a shower into a concert(19/30)First things first,
ensure the water
is a qualified
and your throat is tuned
like a violin two seconds
before the director´s first movement.
Second, ensure your memory
has preserved your record of choice
to ensure the five minutes go on
in one stready stroke.
launch your voice to the tiles,
But wait until the vapor
has cough proofed
your ribs.
let the singers
of old vinyl and disc
baton your performance
Bask in the million
transparent claps
approving of the show.
Come back to reality
when the door slams at you
to get out of there already!
Anchoredenjoy the fall from
rosemary bed
to the shame-paved street,
enjoy the teasing shivers
through breasts.
imprisoned inside dreamless sleep,
while insanity's waiting
on the hospital pillow.
dementia, and
heart-tissues disjuncted
by threads
of love
you used to sell like pornography.
SansBefore the ninth ward was still a wreck
with water to the rafters in declared disaster
I was born nearby you in Bywater—
waterborne or so the neighbor heard
in a neighborhood by the bayou
but not born on it.
Anyone with a tablecloth became a crusading caper
and I was seen with novels written in comic sans;
the novelties of floral-print capes worn
from the scruff of my collar to my cuffs
made age seem to wane like a bad wristwatch
and history’s seams waxed prophetic to the tune of 1965.
That was when the street urchins discovered a local pet,
took Schrodinger’s cat out of the box
and put the cat into a burial bag.
Betty, upset and winded, howled to Katrina
that whether we observed it or not,
a cat still had to die and didn’t deserve it.
That’s why
adulthood decided to concede
with the fullness of floodwaters
and the spitefulness of Christians
confiscating the cross from Romans
and crafting it into Americana.
From ninth ward to psych ward,
you didn

Serenite by Laura-GraphTree by the lake by gestandene:: A Moment in Solitude :: by SummerDreams-ArtBryce canyon by KlaraDrielleMissing you by Mandelblute
Rivuletstiny rivulets
form on a lush moss cushion
beetles hurry home
Stalks Beneath The WindIn humble golden pastures
Folding into endless skies,
Frost perched atop the sprays of stalks
Threw suns into my eyes.
If mottled marbled welts of snow
Ebbing slowly into themselves
Know their place before the mountains
And the morn that is their knell,
Then I too bow as the cold seeps in,
Like those humble stalks beneath the wind.
Crown of StarsI'm looking at the sky,
at the endless dark canvas
and the immortal moon.
I've lost my soul at the sea,
wearing nothing but these eyes
and crown of shimmering stars.
Be one with the elements,
that's what my mother always said,
feel the storm in your lungs,
fire in your heart,
frightening ocean on your fingertips
and textures of earth beneath your feet.
And I did..a bit too much.
Now I'm lost and I question everything,
I question nothing, I feel too deeply
for someone so heartless.
Confused, awed, misunderstood, indecisive
And still I would do this all again...
NoahThe child stared down the circle on his paper
The plus to the left of it
The teacher recognized it as failure
There was no getting better than this
Other than a retake
The child studied, filled the blank space within the circle with an upturned frown
And two dots above that
A blank face
A smile
To make it all better
Rock climbingMy skin calloused
into lifelines
gripping against
I lift off,
feet digging
sweat falling
like dirt flecks
as I excavate
towards sky.  
Heat wells
from fatigued muscle
trying to scale angles
but drawing air.  
I lunge, spinning, 
and find grip. 
signals free-fall
to ground,
slowed by spool
of rope,
my feet 
by still earth. 

Loneley Walk Of Odin by WaldhexeDestiny... by ThyC-Graphicsbeen away too long II by CeecoreThe Ivory by EclipxPhotographyOdin II by Deliquesce-Flux
Spring sonataManipulate me
Petal mist cicada song-
Your fiddle, my void
FingersWe never spoke of hands. I never spoke of hands. Gypsy family stayed far and away, waltzing the streets of Italy and sharing their fortune telling and palm reading secrets only with each other, myself never having a single chance to ask how they happened to do it. They never explained to me how one could know the heart lines bled into the veins in the palms, branched up and around and to my heart - Or, perhaps, it was the other way around. Maybe my heart beats themselves were what shaped my heart lines. Maybe every erratic or skipped beat, every slowed pace and steady one, was what shaped my heart line over a manner of years.
Not once had I taken into consideration the possibility of that which my palms, themselves, weathered shaping those odd little trenches like soldiers crushing down the skin under their marching feet.
Until I met a boy with hands.
Well, that is - Most boys have hands. Most everyone has hands, but this boy had hands, palms smooth just like mine, all those curious na
my neighbour has a neighbour has a garden
& not many flowers bloom,
but he tends to it with great care –
his garden is bereft of birds,
stripped of glee or sunlight,
& rain always seems to bathe the ground
his daughters don’t come by anymore;
it’s just me in his backyard,
listening to his war stories told to no one –
he tells them to the wind with tears in his eyes,
(begging someone to please
“listen to me”)
but little does he know that the wind
has a name
30 Writers You Should Discover: Volume XXXIWhat's This?
Below you will find a new assortment of various writers on DeviantART who are worth getting to know. All of their respective galleries are packed full of tremendous works that I enjoy and hope that you will too. Of course, it there is a
Snow BeastI come bearing purity, finality,
the cruel warmth of thickets.
The earth groans with the heavy burden
of a vernal womb—her sleep cold and fitful.
And so:
a blanket of snow for weary bones,
a sheet of your ice for your fetid waters,
(see the grass moldering on the shore)
an evergreen and a winterberry,
the mournful cry of a wintering goose
as he passes a steadily reddening horizon.
Here, caribou scraps and circling crows—
a starving temptation.
Above, the moon ever watchful, ever full,
bathing the ground in a harsh, sparkling white.
Bare unto me your winter canvas,
your ragged breath,
your shivering delirium,
the last tuft of grey in your pelt
until I leave behind for Spring
a frosted slate in my wake.

Tusk by shanblueMy work by fallenrose87...Sound of Silence... by EsotericIllusionStarry night by KellieArtSerpent Girl by IvanChanCL
mongoliai. nacht 
jewels in traffic lights and 
neon pools; underpass romance,
catching colds in summer rain. 
ii. morgen
dusting off dead nights and
you're on me: breath like inked-in
pulses of a poet with no name.  
iii. abend
cherry-stained love bites and
snow-cut lips; slow dancing like
blue swirls in the pots of porcelain. 
childish immortalitywe're so ocean weary -
salt jeweled hair,
no anchors to plant.
i'll be plucking sand
from between my toes
for weeks.
we roll the windows down
in our cars and homes
to let the neighbors in,
to let the smoke out.
and by the way our
shoes slap the asphalt,
humidity stalling sore ankles,
you'd think we cause heart attacks.
but we'll never tell you
we're running from ourselves.
Remembrance (updated 3-7)I’ve never seen
my father’s gravestone,
standing silent vigil
in the Kansas
that I’ve forgotten.
That place is lost
to me, a myth
of flowing wheat fields
lined with sunflowers.
His home: no longer
I never marked
my buried childhood
on the map. Some steps
can’t be retraced; too
much has passed.
There are pathways
that my feet will
never wander,
yet still remain well-
trodden in my mind.
One leads to this
static slab of granite,
it’s taken me these
miles and years to find.
Its modest face
assembled amongst
the markers of his kin,
their names familiar,
but unrecognized.
His sharply chiseled name
tells me too much
with his silence, and I
say much too little with mine.
These questions weigh on my tongue
like cold granite. Stone
yields no answers.
I brush the unrelenting
surface with my fingertips,
maybe hoping to reclaim
some fading warmth.
I linger for some moments
on the dash between
worn outwhat there is
between us looks like
beach glass--
it shone like
so many radiant drops
of sun and sea at the beginning
but it’s cloudy now,
and dusty,
stuck in an in between
opacity, so far
from the abandon
of the waves
and excited fingers that
held it up as a precious jewel,
Miner's CarolIn Time's brooding dark, plucky boys
Chuckle—Law! there's Mama Hen's noise:
Our kind's joys, flames out of bounds
Just always worried her— Still do.
Mama, look, I'm promising you
We'll get through, with sin-stained hands.
We work, and you bet we're at play
After hours, in bars, the day
Looks away from black faces
Grimed with the minedust – go order beers,
Watch sunlight's children spot their fears
In us, clear as God has graces.
But if Adam tilled thistled ground
Then he's one of us, by the sound
Of things. Bend your mind to it,
You'll see we take what he did deep,
All Eden's forests lie asleep
In Earth's keeping, count on that.
We wake them to build you a fire
And if we neglect half your prayer,
Does Christ suffer? No, brother
We of the shadows, we swing the sun
Through strong hands, fix the crescent moon
Fast to our picks, sing louder!
Louder for all our fright! For each
Pain that blind heart's eyes fail to catch!
Ah! We clutch the morning star
By hope, and sing a h

Basiliska by pin100The inner world of Energy by AphroditeARavenMountains - Green Pond by miirexfrozen lake by augenweideBlinded by Lies by Wesley-Souza
pineher hands were covered with ink
as she cradled me
her hair smelled of pine and vodka
the scent of wood burning against august skies
i saw her when i closed my eyes
she was there beneath my retina
holding hands with the pain i inflicted
craving my demise
i tried to stop myself
he made it difficult
you see
he always made sure to touch his fist to my face
right before he'd leave
silk of the universelittle gravity,
you are darling.
you've a float
that makes distance
and resistance
potent and still
overflowing with
scores of adoration's
most desperate champing.
claim me
with new velocities
and dangerous angles.
bright as the quadrant
you hail from,
lover your coming
has quite the stark
little gravity,
perfect force.
hold me forever
in flight.
let our aching define
our course.
The Intellect's Learning DisabilityEvery tear that rolled
Marking my textbooks,
Every night that deprived
My six hours of sleep,
Every slice that stretched
Over my stressed skin,
Every dollar that was made
For time not in class,
All the late nights,
All the hard work,
All the dedication...
Every tear that rolled
Showing your laughter,
Every night that deprived
Those all-nighter parties,
Every slice that stretched
Through your words to me,
Every dollar that was made
To pay off smoked nature,
All the early mornings,
All the lack of work,
All the enjoyment...
Enjoy the undeserved glory
Intellectually-respected scholars,
While those who worked hardest
Continue to fall beneath you.
NaPoWriMo 2016: 16 --20April 17th, 2016
It's warm out, so
I want berries.
What a simple,
straightforward desire.
The grit of raspberry
seeds and a tall
leaky glass of icewater.
April 18th, 2016
At the end, I did not
want to hurt you, but
I didn't much care
if you were.
My image of you
was some oiled gleaming
pig. You were lovely.
Well-muscled, strong teeth,
still a pig.
April 19th, 2016
While attempting to be enamored,
that place, that language
became repugnant.
It was a final disappointment
I inflicted upon myself,
a penitent's lash.
Years later, I dream
a few words still:
harb al-hub,
hub al-harb

which means nothing
to someone like me.
April 20th, 2016
Several towns over,
a fitful shiver of
lightning. The wind and trees
tell secrets in harmony.
Like a brand new commandment
brought down from Sinai
the rain's leading edge
pronounces itself.
new slangsplitting bark between wet fingers
into slurred staccato notes
hanging from the black marshmallowed sky,
you whisper a torn, swirling autumn sonata
to the midnight sun, a lake gone silver
in eager light
tipped with ambient ambitions
and the prescience of fortunes long untold,
we can only follow footprints
to places we've already been-- but darling,
with wonder

Sindragosa by DaisyOnyxOld But Sturdy by AureliusCatRussell Crowe (Master And Commander) by aurelia-accDress Of Roses by xeena-dragonkizzSpring Melody by adoreluna
A Perfect AfternoonA soft, warm breeze moves the sheers covering the bedroom window and they dance to and fro to the gentle whispering melody of the early summer wind.  Brilliant light cascades into the room joining in the dance of the sheers creating a pattern of light and shadows to fall and mingle on the floor, bed and wall.
My eyes open slowly as I awake from dozing.  I am nestled up against your body, my head resting on your chest.  We are lovers tangled together in the aftermath of passion’s embrace. Your scent, a mixture of your own natural scent and the lingering remnants of your cologne fills my nostrils as I take a deep, relaxing breath.  Your skin is soft and warm and I enjoy the feel of it against my own.  My fingertips draw random patterns lightly across your chest and down your stomach.   I then feel you move and I realize that you are awake.  Your fingers play lazily in my hair, and I lift my head up to look at you, a lock of hair falling into my ey
GlowI got lost
In the mist of an eye,
Looking for a path through the rain of mine.
Piercing my flesh.
Oh let it glow,
Let it shine, let it grow.
I want your hands to burn on my neck,
Your lips to bleed on the side of my head.
The stone of my heart is falling to pieces.
I may have gone somewhere new.
The blue veil on me, finding its way in,
But I’m not getting out
And blue sand is my skin.
Unstable, the sound of violence breathing loudly behind my shoulder.
I come, no peace.
There is your smile in every storm.
A web is a temporary palace Breakfast between roses,
the spider holds the fly
in a tight embrace.
          Sweet tea scalds my tongue,
          it hurts - I think, this is love. 
Bluebird WednesdaysThunder-cloud loner, your eyes are silver
like the sky above my shanty neighborhood.
They're devoid of malice, unlike anything I've ever seen
in all my 23 years of living a tip-of-the-sword existence.
Girl, your lips are tempting like the currant-berries I used to pick
when I was a kid, living next-door to an English teacher
in a spring-moon mountain village.
And sometimes, I even wonder as I lie awake at 4 in the morning,
if your lips would taste just as sweet as
that once-in-a-lifetime, island-pearl treat.
Yes, I am wrong but I'm not as bad
as some people you might know..
“You want me to say it out loud,”
you confront me on the stairs outside your house.
“You want me to swear; up and down,
that you are my hero and that I'd be lost, a pile
of jam-colored skin and glass-cut bones,
without your quick-thinking;
your intruding steps, dangerous fists,
barging into my home.”
You swallow hard before continuing,
“But I won't; I won't
thank you for putting my care
the big picture writ smalloh, waterbear! oh, tardigrade!
my deepest ponders you ensnare;
is death, to you, just a charade?
long trains of thought do you pervade;
are you the blade, god's veil to tear?
oh, waterbear! oh, tardigrade!
are you panspermic seeds, far-splayed?
did i come from the genes we share?
is death, to you, just a charade?
oh, watertard! oh, bearigrade!
oh, watergrade! oh, tardibear!
oh, waterbear...oh, tardigrade...
so, now my sanity's been flayed;
my thoughts on you, blame's brunt do bare...
is death, to you, just a charade?
though fey, i think my point's been made...
though i must point it with great care;
oh, waterbear...oh, tardigrade...
is death, to you, just a charade?

  • Listening to: Dead Can Dance
  • Drinking: Arrogant Bastard Ale


Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Cape Hatteras and New York
Favourite genre of music: All of it
Favourite style of art: All of it
Favourite cartoon character: Bill the Cat, Oor Wullie, Snoopy
Personal Quote: They're taking them out in little green bottles again, and they all look like you.


Thanks for :+fav:! :dance:
Fri Jun 10, 2016, 3:09 AM
hey, thank you so much for faving! :)
Tue Apr 12, 2016, 12:11 PM
Thank you very much for watching me. :)
Wed Mar 23, 2016, 9:03 PM
I have missed your work. Beautiful!
Sat Jan 16, 2016, 6:50 PM
Thanks for the favorite!! :sun:
Tue Dec 8, 2015, 6:57 AM
Thanks for the favorite, Brendan! :heart:
Mon Sep 28, 2015, 6:55 AM
Honored to be added to your watch my friend. Good times.
Mon Aug 24, 2015, 9:11 PM
Thanks for the fave, Brendan! :sun:
Sun Aug 9, 2015, 6:50 AM
Thanks for the fave! xxx
Tue Jul 28, 2015, 1:36 PM
Thanks for the :+fav:! ... :heart:
Mon Jul 13, 2015, 4:01 PM


Add a Comment:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2016
Thank you so much, Brendan, for your latest faves of my work.
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2016   Writer
thanks for the faves. your work is looking really good...
beeinthebottle Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2016   Writer
SenoritaBlack Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2016
Hello Brendan. Thank you very much for collecting "You are the night." :)
caddman Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2016  Professional General Artist

Thanks for the Fav :rgbsquad: Emote for Beatles fans
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Hey Brendan.  Thank you for faving.  :)
PoetsHand Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2016
Thank you for the fave. It really is good to see you on dA.
TinaLouiseUk Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank You For The Favorite By Pamonk-d8rjvf8 by TinaLouiseUk
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Sep 19, 2016   Writer
Thank you for the :+fav: on feedback, Brendan. Great to see you around.
AnnamaeTezuka Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the faves!
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