[x]

DaydreamingI'm all locked up inside
My own personal cage of sin.
Sanctimony is a righteous bribe.
It brands dark ink upon the skin
Leaving me breathless, and fooled,
Not whole, not again.
I no longer wait for night to unfold
To cosset me in downy pillow dreams.
I close my eyes right here, right now.
The mind will fly where it's always free
To seek the memories of a land of old,
Not stale, not for me.

the sound of gears and stoneborn in steel and clay
rising to press back the clouds
and scattering them with a wave
of hands and arms made for
other things

the sound of gears and stone
shifting and grinding
shifting and grinding
walking towards the edge
of the world

pocked with the mark of times
when hungry beasties fed
and took me to their bed
if only in their minds
not their hearts

the horizon is never closer
and entropy betrays me
but not yet, I say,
but not yet, I say,
and I move through the night

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

FarewellEs ist nicht alles wirklich
in diesem Zustand zwischen
Wachen und Schlafen...

" Wie du mir warst..." flüstern Türen
und Wände seit Jahrhunderten
in stillem Einvernehmen
dazu das Atmen des Holzes
ein- aus -ein- aus.

Der blinde Spiegel tut ein Übriges
und schweigt-
er hat schon zuviel gesehen.

Grünes Gezweig rankt am abgeplatzten
Fensterrahmen
und schlängelt entlang
der verblassten Tapeterie.

Einst blühten hier Rosen
sehr laut und sehr rot
und jeder Strauß weinte still
in seiner rostigen Vase.

Nun liegen Fliegenarmeen- beinoben-
an den matten Scheiben.

Ihr letzter Blick
war sicher ins Grün.

Witch's BrewBubble bubble
toil and trouble
eye of newt
its the witching hour.

Its the witching hour
where the witches
are in a gitty mood
making new potions.

A dash of frog's lips
scale of dragon
wings of a gremlin
stir them all into a cauldron.

Witches just love making potions
they got so many viels on their shelves
you can find all that you seek
at the witch's cottage.

Make your true love fall for you
there's a love potion that'll do the trick
want to be a few inches taller
there's a growth potion to help with that
just be careful not to drink it all
that is if you want to be a giant.

Witches love the time of hour
making their potions with wick

Who I amWho I Am

&

Who I Want To Be,

are so far away from each other it hurts.

Twerping Birdies

I. not a morning person

Twerping birdies, chorping away at the day
As if I were supposed to be awake
At the crack of noon.

Cheerful construction workers obliterate
The restful silence, encouraged, perhaps,
By the bad example of the twerping birds.

There's plenty of rest for the wicked,
But none at all for me; let the early bird
Gorge itself on wormy guts for all I care.

II. insomnia blues

like unto the gentle, polyphonic susurration of the wind
through the leaves of the sibylline vuvuzela tree,
the evocative, resonant, goldurned whiny two-stroke
of the kargyraa engine of progress that powers
the early morning hunting call
of the ove

vengeance for injusticea mother she cries
cries at the war
now she waits
waits for the call
of the soldiers orders to kick down her door
vengeance she took filled with hate
for her husband and child who couldn't be saved
now she's locked in a cell
she buried her son
they put her through hell
but it's okay the rich man won

cirque de nuitanfangs ein rauschen am nachthimmel
so geschehen vom flattern der wimpel im

halbdunkel und dem klagenden streichton einer
singenden säge.

genommen und versteckt
verloren und gefallen

und ein riss der das zurückkommen
nicht möglich macht.

ein bild unter glas
getrübt - verhangen wie weisses Metall.

( hast du das licht vergessen- hast du?)

die leine baumelt mechanisch
am hilflosen arm.

ein atmen - stockend und menschlich fast
(etwas pocht herzähnlich)

ein raunen geht durch unsichtbare reihen
enttäuschend wie ein sprung ohne boden.

verlierst du dich verlierst du mich auch
und haben wir schon uns beide verlo

One Thing Leads To AnotherOne teachers bitterness
Can lead to this
Student that's struggling in the back row
A snide comment about a test score
And their whole world
Will take a blow

Little did that teacher know
The magnitude that their actions hold
That one comment, look or eye roll
Could tear that kids whole world

That kid leaves class
Without a second glance
At the teacher who was meant to enlighten them
But broke down their confidence
And shattered them

It starts with passing giggles in the hallway
To comments in the next class that their friends made
To their parents questions at the end of the day

To the very next morning that same kid
Is late to class becau

The Ugly TruthI'm not a miracle worker,
I'm not superwoman,
I'm a broken, 17 year old girl, who has no idea where shes going in life.

And I'm scared.

Living :Conest Entry:To say man is sinful, doesn't seem to quite say it.
Because all that brings to mind is blasphemers, fornicators, God-haters--all of us.
But to say man is dead, is all the more accurate
Because a corpse can't feel sympathy, it can't hear cries for help.
It tastes not, hears not, handles not, it becomes as lifeless as the very idol it worshipped.
No, to say man is sinful doesn't seem to quite say
Because he who identifies as a cadaver can't hope to know who he really is.
That's why my endeavors are heavenly, and my ID is "Living Among the Dead" Because I know Christ gave me life so I could feel your pain even though find it pleasurable,
To se

I Am RageThere are no ups to my downs
Moods like seasons yet I'm always cold
A good day is one with no blood on my hands
Yet red is the color that burns in my eyes

An itch of underlying rage that swelts
My core a fire with no intent for peace
Emotions run blank when confronted by others
Yet the desire to release feels like nature

There are pictures I see that are dark
Scenes of macabre that need to be locked away
Second guessing every touch I make
I don't trust the lit fuse that I am

A battle is always on my mind
Reality twitches with things I wish I didn't see
I cannot let go of this rage without combusting
I cannot turn away from what dissolves

Love War"war has taken your smile",
oh great and mighty soldier,
i see the bitterness in your heart,
i feel the callouses you accumulate,
across your tear streaked visage,
i see the scars a plenty,
you have fallen,
like many others on this battlefield,
for there is none more dangerous or rewarding,
just another broken heart,
in the endless war of love,
"war has taken your smile"

Sleep DeprivedHere's an update for my dreams of black,
once they were gone,
and now there back.

For days now my sleep has been deprived,
waking early,
waking loud.

Sometimes more early than i need,
1am, 2am, 3am, 4,
Life is a blur sometimes.

Now at school, sitting in class,
bored but still awake,
'won't last long, will it now? Fear i'll start to snore :3

But what causes such problems of mine?
For that i'm not quite sure.
Guilt, Stress, Blood, or Love?
I guess we'll never know.

plz buy my prints!plz buy my prints! i have a very large, cheap and good selection of prints so i ask of u 2 plz come and plz check out my prints 2 see if u see anything u like plz! just plz even if it's just 1 print that cost $0.49 would b very happy! so plz come over and take a look at my print selection and help a fellow artist!

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three dollsnails running along poles of fences make lovely twangings cutting out your voice. soft, small noises i can focus on.

have you ever noticed how the falling leaves of armour shedding trees, flutter slowly to the ground as if they were slow motion shots from a movie? like reality is nothing until you view it through someone else's vision.
driving up avenues.
but these trees are just transplants from the old world, as if we were in a part of the world where all vegetation stops, for one long slow sleep.

im walking, walking, and what do i see? [i play games with myself to better pass the time.]
i see an emaciated girl, cracked over onto hers

running through the messesyou trick your mind,
you forget all the impulses,
you silence the routines and fractures of memories isolating your every moment.

you take a long cold drink.
you rest your head against the wall for some stability.
you let your mind drain out the sludge you keep there rotting.

you stop the motions,
you stop them just before they start,
you volley your thought processes into another direction.

you loosen your grip,
you let it take hold of you for just a second,
you allow yourself to give in to the screaming and all of the rushing voices.

you do this
you do this so you can
you do this so you can just go on.

eye is in the fireeye is in the fire
where the world is beating brightly

lithely flavouring the ground with your foot markings,
go to the edge and dapple there

we are serrating edges with smoother tongues,
taught what to say, what not to say
and when and how to say unsay.

there never is a why, how is always wrapped up in the what and when,
you know.

eye is in the fire
where the dreams are fading slowly

securing more foot holds and head rests
for much less than what we lost in tears

we are soldiering on despite of soldered on body parts
glued back together like a doll,
that i never was for you.

there never is a me, there never was a you, it all

purple swirlschange and dont ever change.
he wants to sell his soul,
he'll use yours to get to the prize.

you think you are growing wisdom
down to the ground, i remember
ice cream and upside down umbrella trees.

dont change and ever change.
these dresses of how you were years ago
are the same, but you are not.

'It won't hurt'water rises
and i cannot breathe in these molecules
funny how such a little thing like H can make all the difference.

you see whether is not wrong
weather or not, you let it
rain still falls.

swollen islands
burst upon your waking phantasms
clouds precipitate more than change around here

flakes of
crystals i havent seen for more than eleven years
plus one, oh plus one is not a positive.

ice melts
but inside this encapsulation
what was left of me is only a steaming mess at your feet.

crepuscularyou are your straits
and mine walking lonely streets in darker hours
caressing every last breath in me
closer to my misery

you are your plaids
and my black and whites in quiet times
seducing patterns on my outer limits
running over same cracks

you are your mauves
and mine fraying at the edges at dusks
dawns come out in silent whispers
vespers (whispers) overhead

you are your coats
and mine of over on all my thoughts receding
i walk all lone these street along
footfalls fading with your face.

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was is this

by ~saturnineguise, Apr 16, 2008, 2:29:42 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

it would be a silence
a crackling perturbed scowl
an exhaust fume trickle of
laughter you choke on
get high on wish you could
die on that sends you
reeling round and flicker round
like the end of a master reel
you feel the movie has ended tell
me is life on a little screen

i recite my dreams pull them
one by one like ants still
squirming and angry from my
mouth my deep throat mornings
my cacophonous yawning that
no one no not one of all the
strangers in my life can hear

writing your name on a drain pipe
late last night in the dark light
of an overhang i thought it was
funny it was in silver ink and i
wrote love is tragic and i want
to know is this the essence of
fear because it is so confusing
when it is cold and i am not

was is thisby ~saturnineguise

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

every blank piece of something outside is just waiting to be written on. i'm so tired of the insides.

and i love the smell of permanent. because nothing is, and i suppose nothing really should have a strong scent.

[i've been listening to loud loud metal in quiet quiet places again, hoping i won't get bashed under those streetlights, hoping i just might, hoping my cab comes, hoping my cab doesn't come, hoping nothing comes, because at least i'll be pleasantly surprised otherwise, if i wasn't expectant.]

~LoveShotEyes Apr 30, 2008 Student Writer

I've really missed your work while I've been burrowed away behind textbooks.

This is an incredibly beautiful piece, sweetheart, with so many beautiful lines.

an exhaust fume trickle of
laughter you choke on
get high on wish you could
die on

i recite my dreams pull them
one by one like ants still
squirming and angry from my
mouth my deep throat mornings
my cacophonous yawning that
no one no not one of all the
strangers in my life can hear

~cynicalxpoet Apr 29, 2008

Somehow, I read the last stanza first ._o
I loved the whole thing, even backwards.

~FictionalSoul Apr 16, 2008 Student General Artist

I have fallen in love with your style of writing! I just love this... the whole thing!

You have a way of expression that I would love to have for myself!

!IAmPhoenixMoth Apr 16, 2008

I had the exact same thought on Friday, about the sky.
and this poem came at yet another perfect time.
I think your hands are in conspiracy with my brain.

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