Recommend A Deviant
| Our Team
| #DailyDeviantsSaturday, November 28th[ paintersblock's Gallery ]
The amazing work of ~paintersblock
invites one to dream, the surreal twist of it all together with the colors used in each piece makes me think of a better tomorrow for art for some reason. Really worth a visit. Featured by =ninaste[ K-E-I-T's Gallery ]
's gallery: dark, surreal, captivating, mesmerizing. Featured by =silber-englein[ otherwise-duck's Gallery ]
You'll be floored by the way ~otherwise-duck
manipulates sound and imagery to convey emotions in her writing. Do enjoy!
Bones in the DirtAnd we were stacked together like bones in the dirt.
You on one side and me on the other.
Battered, broken bones of some busted, buried body;
Long forgotten memoires of one vengeful, brutal act.
That's what we were.
Some too-late-to-save victim.
Pieces of the same mistake.
The quiet, sleeping aftermath of something too wrong to make right.
We were a secret all the authorities, bloodhounds, and desperate floodlights couldn't seem to find.
No matter how hard they tried.
"I am the disjointed knees, and you are a fractured femur, forty-eight centimetres in length with a break down your middle," I whispered.
You waited, an
Dear Heart,Push your eardrum against her tender ribcage and fall asleep to the thump-thump of a thousand oxygen carriers flowing to save their fragile world.
Listen to the rush-rush of blood; pulling in, pushing out.
High tide, low tide. High tide, low tide.
Softly slink to slumber beside the ocean residing in her chest.
Open eyes and hold breath until you find the gentle pump-pump of your own crisp and steady heartbeat. Lay ribcage to ribcage, hand in hand, and particpate in one grand cardial symphony. Two tides in two separate oceans.
Beating, beating, beating.
The constant (yet mortally unconstant) c
GraffitiDear Frieght Train,Bones in the Dirt
Maybe you can't hear; maybe through all the thick iron and chipped paint, you can't feel me breaking free against your skin.
But I like to think differently.
To deny your soul would be a terrible tragedy.
Gosh. I guess I just wanted to ask if you could be my literary vessel. If you could carry my words, fresh and soul-filled, with you on your travels. Please, just these. Take them:
Dear Passing World,
| Dear Heart,
| GraffitiFeatured by !KneelingGlorySunday, November 29th[ sepfeh's Gallery ]
There is a sort of old-yet-new quality found in the work of ~sepfeh
. Featured by *AshleighPopplewell[ Bohemiart's Gallery ]
is a wonderful artist! I love her style so much. So unpredictable in every way. She keeps the viewers on there toes of a beautiful emotional/dark roller coaster of images Vintage, Gothic and sorrowful. Suggested by `devildoll
Featured by *silentfuneral[ eugenides-attolia's Gallery ]
I am particularly taken with ~eugenides-attolia
's beautifully penned prose work. I feel a wonderful novelist emerging. Don't forget to check out the delightful poetry too.
One AfternoonHe saw her again. She was playing the violin.
Quietly, unobtrusively, she stood in a corner of the underpass. Crowds of passers-by streamed past like the edges of a dream; she was lost in her own haven of swirling, mellifluous notes.
He liked watching her play, liked the way her head bent just the slightest bit to support the violin on her shoulder, liked the way her hand drew the bow up and down, up and down.
Today he had time. Today he would listen, really listen to her performance.
Her hand arched gracefully as she drew the bow across the violin strings in one fluid motion; a clear, vibrant sound reverberated long in the air. Then her
Culture shiokA Defining Moment of Culture-shiok
What is culture, after all? The immigrant shrugs. The prospect of a better life, is, of course, the main motivating factor for moving to the flourishing nation of Singapura.
Singapore is truly a mish-mash of customs, traditions, and ethnicity.
Singapore, moreover, is a nation celebrated for its pop culture. We have become westernized. Hannah Montana, Starbucks, Hersheysthe glitzy evidence of the level of which it has permeated our society.
We follow the trends, because they are deemed as cool. Sure, Chinese New Year, Hari Raya are national holidays, but to what extent
Lost and FoundLost and FoundOne Afternoon
Oftentimes, I find, it is:
a pen, notebook, or letters;
a set of keys, cards, slippers.
I know of a man who lost himself once;
he was a nuisance. Good riddance.
a war, a country, your head;
I wince (at so much bloodshed).
These, I cannot help.
But when you lose:
a vision, goal or aspiration,
do not sink into dejection.
Do not mope.
For I am hope.
| Lost and FoundFeatured by ~TazzyDee