|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
idioms taken literally - ii. the pissimist Two thirsty men, Opt & Pess, stood before the soda drink machine.
Opt was pressing his cup against the lever of the Sierra Mist dispenser while Pess waited in line behind him. However, no soda seemed to be pouring out into Opt's cup.
"Aw. That's a'right, I'll jus' settle with some good ol' Coca Cola, then." He then pressed his cup against the Coca Cola dispenser, and Sierra Mist came pouring out.
Opt grinned. "Don't ya jus' love it when things work out?" he chirped to Pess as he held his cup there. He waited till it was half-full.
Pess grumbled. "I love it more when things're workin'," he retorted.
[Opt stepped aside, enjoying his drink, and Pess went up to the machine. He decided he was up for some Sierra Mist as well, though he wanted diet. He put up his cup against the lever of the Diet Sierra Mist dispenser and filled it till it was half-empty. "Can never trust machines...who runs this th
i painted a mirror, and so did youtwo nights ago, i realized how beautiful my face truly is
i didn't need to remember the time he told me i was beautiful
to force myself to believe it
and when i had this epiphany, my fingers wouldn't stop caressing this mask of beauty framed with tears
it isn't just a comely arrangement of skin and organs, no,
it sees, it smells, it tastes, it speaks, but more poignantly,
it exhibits the physical manifestations of what we feel inside
it smiles and laughs and screams and shouts,
the skin on my face has inhaled the sound of every childish laugh i've let out for this world to hear, sponged up every precious tear, and soaked in each and every one of my dimpled smiles
the flesh of my face nostalgic as album pages, layer over layer of emotions lost to memory since my day 1; a record of who i am and everything i've felt
but not only is it a painting of everything i experience inside - it is a mirror of what you do, too.
coffee and tea don't mixhow he would love
to be the coffee to her mornings,
to rouse her gingerly
with the smell of his warmth and vitality,
and be that which she depends on
to get her through these
dry and lethargic
she says she likes the cold--
so tell me this,
would she rather
his own warm-hearted offering?]
how he would love for her
to be the tea to his nighttime,
to lull and
pacify his babyish ways -
to tame his fervent embers
with a single cool, sweet breath
down his neck
that would freeze the hot tea-tears there
daring to trespass her territory.
and so, she would be that
which he depends on
to get him through these
[oh, but listen here! -
tell me, hasn't he overlooked something?
one does not consume tea cold.]
keeping head above waterthe ocean swells,
smiling in unison with the moons reflected
in my shining irises
the waves lap at the summits of my cheekbones
[yes, that's how high they reach]
i'm barely paddling against the current
with the cups of my hands,
ah, the water wins wonderfully:
slaps me a stinging one in the face.
i wipe the pain from my eyes,
wring out my eyelashes,
only to leave watery scars on
the scales of my skin
and let the salt leak
into my wounds.
i'm no smooth sailor,
yeah, i crash from time to time
and i can't do nothing
but blame it on the tide
yeah, it shreds me and erodes me
until it subsides.
but hey, at least i'm not drowning.
[i have in me that skill
y'all call "swimming"
and i'm learning it
a bit at a time.]
at least i'm not drowning [anymore].
[and i can almost feel the gritty sand
'gainst the skin of my feet again.]
We who are the personification of ourselves.Human likeness is made of everything.
We who are like everything,
We who are shaped by everything,
We who are not anything by ourselves;
No, we are nothing by ourselves.
We are not even humans by ourselves.
One dreads to call
ourselves the forbidden
word that begins itself with an
we are ones who feel--
Merely because we are ones who
of words, of art, of posture
But we are angels
and beasts alike!
We who are animals
For animals are not human,
but humans, are,
the site of good fortunehe is heir to
upon which was crowned
the mighty dragon
who is now vanquished.
his delicate wings tremble,
and too quick for Time
they unfold by the wind's
as if papers of a
a glimpse of his metallic color
darting through the cattails,
and eluding that frog's gluttonous tongue--
just that one, acknowledging glimpse
of what is described here
brings a good fortune to you,
it is a gift of luck brought to you
on fleeting wings
from our beloved and charming,
The Great Red SoltatorsThe Soltators never stop, never cease to be moving constantly. They have no other choice, or they risk facing mass extinction.
Since the first one of us formed (and from that one sparked another), we grew exponentially till the sky was seething with us. We were a worthy species, any other on our planet would have blundered upon the land, or sunk in the seas beneath our mass; but we were hardly affected by gravity. We lit up and took part in the sky. As a whole, our species formed a great red oval on the surface of our gargantuan home, yes, much larger than your home.
It's simply ironic; you, human, could house trillions of us in your body, but our planet, Retipuj, could house your Earth a thousand times over.
We have not conquered our entire planet. They say there isn't enough time. Our circumstances are dire, for our sun is fatigued and our environment brutal. My brethren in the outskirts of our Oval can't helped but be vacuumed away by the unyielding winds out in the Open, and
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More