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Swallowing Shadows and Secrets“We’re waiting for you.”
I close my eyes. How long has it been since I’ve gone to this place? How long has it been since I decided to show someone else the new interior of my mind? The theater is rebuilt. It’s been sitting here in the dust, gathering the shadows once more. But these are not outer demons which walk the halls. No, these are my own.
Which means I have everything to fear.
A person who is aware of their destructive element is twice as dangerous as the man who walks unaware. The man who is unaware doesn’t know the potential he has. He has never thought about the power he can unleash. But the aware man has. He has considered all the sadistically creative possibilities which exist within him. All it takes is a slight slip of his morals… and he can make a mistake; the transition into darkness.
I have been in the dark. I have created demons, destroyed men and women alike. I can be cruel, cold, efficient. There is a place in my heart that
Lying through a SmileScreaming inside, outside silent;
tears drip beside blood
down my back as leather
bites a little deeper into skin.
Naked outside, dressed by strength;
Vulnerable to rage, hate, lust
crying for forgiveness
sought, not given.
Tortoiseshell bruising, red strips;
sobs alone in an abandoned bed;
soul housed in an empty body;
abuse wrapped in love.
Excuses lined with truth,
marks beneath bright patterns
blinding everyone to the bonds
lying through a smile.
Desert ChildDesert Child
I was a girl
born of harsh sands, spiny yucca
once of porcelain, then of gold
sunshine blazes which kissed my skin.
My body learned from the cougar,
smooth and supple on the surface but
wrought with hardened muscle, iron
tested against the red mountain faces.
My anger learned from the rattlers
patience is wound in loops, forming
strong skin against trivial insults but
providing vicious revenge on attack.
My spirit learned from nature
to offer up its fruits to the weary,
cooling nerves like the setting sun’s
evening hours calm the crying coyote.
I, a soul of fire,
bathed in the treasured rare river,
sang joyfully with wolves to the stars
And danced amongst troubling sandstorms
Until I lay down amongst the mesas,
shed my scorpion barb, blossomed
like the prickly pear’s bright flower
then let my soul follow the hawk
to depart the earth for the skies.
I am a Martial ArtistI am a martial artist.
My journey began walking through years on pain. Pain from words, blows, betrayal, doubt. The pain which colored me in darkness until I believed the lies. I walked alone, eyes down believing I was weak, ugly, fat, stupid, unworthy of love, unworthy of life. There was so much anger inside of me, but no where for it to go. Like a whipped dog, I knew baring my teeth would only make things worse. Eventually, I believed I deserved what was given to me. No talent or praise I had could change my mind. I was a failure. I was a disappointment.
From in the pit, I started to take small steps. A step of confidence, the belief that I could do something if I tried... generated from a week at camp. A step of strength; I tried to improve physically so that no one would hurt me again. A step of realization that I had been lied to; I was worthy of love and life. I could have friends who mattered. Every step took years. There were times I slid backwards, but one learned, the steps w
In My HandsI hold a secret dream in my heart,
Locked between my hands
like a young raven, fluttering its delicate wings
sometimes sinking in its claws to my life.
To some who are close, I crack my hands open;
Allowing them to glimpse this dark secret.
Beauty isn’t always understood
with blood; they react with joy or hatred.
Some try to make me cast it away,
Like a dangerous snake; seeing only the damage
Lurking as this secret matures into a full predator.
They say it will consume me.
Others marvel at its beauty, the silver
Lining of my smile; they see the secret like a gift
Waiting to yield more happiness each day.
They say it will complete me.
I don’t open my hands to everyone;
There are some who might try to kill my dream
And just like a child who found a rare treasure,
I am afraid they will take it, then leave me broken.
Soon enough, I will set it free; watch it spread
its wings and become real, No longer attached
to me but let loose on my life’s path in the open;
For My Sister, With LoveA soft tilt of the lips as the clock
tips forward another hour
past the threshold of the day.
A flooding of viridian eyes
As they glance at photos long forgotten
Of laughing girls and ornaments.
A hum of songs shared
Between two friends like secrets,
The strength they held flowing freely in the wind.
A quiet whisper of words said once
Every three hundred and sixty five days,
To ears which cannot hear her.
She traces the words lovely,
Letting them fall from her lips
like a prayer for the stars to carry between worlds
Happy Birthday Sister…
I love you and miss you
I give you all of my best
I pray you see another year with me
After all... we've made it this far
why not see what the rest
of this adventure has to offer?
when you find yourself
in a crowd of familiar faces,
the struggle for breath
You Will PayI can taste the fear upon you:
The cold sweat in your palms,
The eyes that dart at shadows,
And the lips that are forced into a tightened smile.
You wait beneath the blankets,
Shivering each night as the anxiety rises.
You gasp at the slightest sounds and quiver...
For you are afraid of the curse that comes.
In your mind you see what you have done to me.
You watched as you ripped my tongue
And stole the very voice from my soul!
But even if I am without a body,
Even if I can no longer hold a knife to your throat.
Fear alone is enough for me to silence you,
And I will NEVER allow you to be heard!
MazeLost within myself
Looking for a way out
This cannot end like this
Trapped in my own mind
A maze with no exit
I keep running and running
But I always end up
In the same place where I began
Inner DemonI harbour a monster,
It lingers deep within.
It wants to escape me,
To tear free from my skin.
It gnaws at my insides,
And hopes that I'll give in.
It works hard to tempt me,
To lead me into sin.
It wants me to suffer
To feel its wretched sting.
But I stand true and strong,
I will not let it win.
The nights are the hardest,
In bed I pray and sing
To the Lord God above
To rid me of this thing.
But instead it remains,
My monster still within.
RustThe dwelling rust
swells this hollow garden
and somewhere in the yard
a tire swing goes flat
against the skyline.
It chokes the autumn light
in the silo,
the crush of
mums and ragged berries
It bubbles in the percolator
steeping still life
in the caul
of early morning -
the red-brown crumbs
of breakfast toast and jam
growing ghosts upon
And deep inside
I still hear you waking up
the soft salute
of morning voices
stirring the wind
outside my window.
Slaves of the deadSlaves of the dead
to find another land,
but they couldn't stand the desert and the frost.
Some died, some returned.
For those who returned
the masters had prepared a special punishment.
Their memory was wiped off.
They became thieves,
without ever understanding why.
They just felt it was the right thing to do.
Croon.And you will have my arms around you
long after the first frost
silences the crickets
that played us to sleep
through our first summer,
and their children
and the children of theirs
will play those same songs
as creases form and deepen
beside our eyes.
And I know this because
of our childish jokes
and because of the words
we are writing.
there’s something about
these kisses hitting their marks
from thousands of miles away
eliciting rouge beneath pale;
I see on your face
the dumbfounded grin
I feel spreading across my own,
our bodies built
scattered by the hand of fate
between two states.
But it is love
who is determined
to complete our picture
and it is love
who shall have her way.
Red Light ReduxHaving a truck
Paint me red
Is the strangest feeling
I’ve ever felt.
I’ve seen myself melt away
Like a mid-summer’s ice cream
While my personality screams
To be noticed. Every wall that once
Stood between me and reality
I am finally free.
Until they strapped me down
And sewed back my hands to my head.
My heart to my mouth.
My legs to the earth.
The taste of freedom
Rests gently on my tongue,
And I’ve been trying
To no avail.
What Shall I Be?It is a blank canvas,
Just waiting for the artist's hand.
It is an empty book,
Waiting for the author's inspiration.
Like a soft ball of clay,
My mind is waiting for shaping.
You can turn me into a doll,
Or I could become something almost real.
With a little bit of luck and work,
My body might metamorphasize;
I might become something better than before.
But for the moment,
It is as white as the fresh fallen snow,
Waiting for the master's hand.
What will you make me?
What shall I be?
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More