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About Literature / Hobbyist Alotta MagicFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Komorebi
In my dream
I opened my eyes to see
a light among shadow
catch a glimpse of my face,
peeking through cracks
of evergreen shade.
Brown eyes shining gold
peering down at me,
long hair tickling my skin
soft lips caressing mine.
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Literature
The Geisha
They found her in the room an hour later when dawn was breaking and the birds had fully woken, when rays of early morning peered in cracks through the shutters, light illuminating the sight of it all. Her face pale as death and the cold empty red-rimmed marbles that were her eyes, the dried tears that crusted its creases, smeared lipstick, dried vomit and the foam that oozed out of her chapped lips. Blood that had spread steadily from long ugly gashes marring her thin white wrists to form a pool in which she laid the side of her head. Her elaborate hair undone, thick pristine make-up smudged and cracked, lush waves of red and gold silk soiled in blood and vomit.
The other girls screamed in horror at the sight while mother barged into the room in little more than her usual rage as if the girl lying in her blood had just stolen food from the kitchen. And soon strong steady hands -if a little rough- came to remove the dying prostitute from her pool of blood and used narcotics, away from t
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Literature
Eyes
Her eyes that burned like fire-
shards of ice that pierced the cold;
deep and dark and old as earth-
they buried alive the heart it stole
that drowned alone in silent waters,
lost in the wind fleeting gray skies;
bolts of thunder jolting life
all that meet her gazing eyes.
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Literature
Choose Your Name
“John Brant,” I whispered, and a dashing British gentleman appeared in my mind, arrogant and suave as the slim-fitting Italian suit he wore. He sounded classy, not overly pompous. But there was just something about him. He could be the cool confident charmer I was looking for. But he could just as well be a stiff stocky soldier with his pride shoved far up his ass.
“John Chase,” The name rolled smoothly off my tongue. Another man took form, both the same and different from the first. He was just as charming, perhaps a little lower in class with a bolder tongue. And was that a little mischief I saw in his eyes? Undoubtedly, he was smoother than the latter. He could work. A common name for a common man. Maybe a little too common. But he could work.
“John Davies,” I frowned, my eyes still closed as I wrinkled my brow. This man was full of question marks. Unlike the previous two, I couldn’t picture him quite as clearly. And I wasn’t su
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Literature
The Theater
curtains close, lights on
the stage is empty.                                                what
was magic reveals its greatest trick
and still we are sitting
waiting for the end.                                                we had
laughed and we cried
only when it’s over do we realize what                       was
true, what wasn’t
heroes become actors
the characters we know⎯
strangers we                                                          never
knew. out of sight,
they take off ornamental masks
and show who they                                                  truly
are. some drink to get drunk.
others in search for the next role
and still we come back for more.
why, we don’t really know
perhaps a desire to forget what is real
a willingness to believe
to fall in                                                                  love
with those who pretend to be
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Literature
Glass Ballerina
fiona,
maybe you are reading this message. maybe you aren’t. maybe you still think i’m a crazy old fool or maybe you regret deeming me so. but i cannot live here. i cannot. trapped in a place i don’t belong. they give me pills i don’t need and tell me nothing is real.
don’t be sad or sorry. i have lived. i have fallen in love and out of it. as for the growing distance between us, it’s my fault. my fault i am different. my fault i can’t make you understand.
go to our old house and in my room there is a key on the bottom drawer to the left. use the key to open a little red box in the attic. it’s all i have left since you stripped me of my dignity. and it’s yours.
if i ever i told you your mother was my first love, i lied. when i was a child, your grandmother gave me a glass ballerina and i fell in love with it. she fitted perfectly in my palms. so delicate, so intricately beautiful. poised gracefully with slender limbs, elfin face. i
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Literature
Maybe Not
“Nice day isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
The woman with the sad eyes has just strolled in through the closing doors, positioning them both in those awkward seconds of silence inside the familiar five by five space as they descended to the ground. There is no one else in the elevator today, just the two of them. He yawns. She clears her throat. They note that the music that hung over them is a bossa nova rendition of Michael Jackson’s greatest hits. In the few seconds that they are standing side by side they proceed with their daily ritual, attempting meaningless conversations to break the silence while they wait for the high-pitched ring that would mark their liberation from the enclosed space of social discomfort.
In truth, Vince does not even know her name. But that is not to say that he doesn’t know her. As a matter of fact, they do know each other. He knows that she lives on the seventh floor, two stories below him. He knows that she is
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Literature
Jamie's Dead
Jamie died today.
I don’t remember much about what had happened. Not much at all except the feel of his feverishly warm body thrusting against my own. The soft of his lips and the rough of his unshaven face, exploring the most sacred of places where only he⎯and he alone⎯was allowed to touch. I remember the rush of euphoria and colors dancing in my head, the sudden urge I had to show him how I loved him.
And before that, screaming and pure hatred. The blow of his palm across my face. The strong smell of alcohol filling up the small dingy space of our one bedroom apartment. I remember the sharp sting of a cigarette butt where it fell on my skin. Flickering fluorescent lights while Jamie pricked a needle into my veins. I remember how it had hurt at first, and how afterward, I didn’t mind at all. And neither did Jamie.
Before that, I remember Jamie growing colder. Jamie coming home late at night. Jamie refusing to talk. Jamie going off to places I didn’t know
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Literature
Ghost
It was a hollow darkness of endless sable
Where I stood inside my labyrinth world,
On a brittle line of sane and mental,
Within the depths of this cavernous cold.
I saw with the eyes of my mind:
A drifting whiteness towards me lurch
Along a measureless trail with no behind,
A herd of figures began to converge.
They moved as one in a snaking path⎯
Men and women pale as chalk;
The young and the old, gathered in mass,
All dressed in stark white, an apathetic walk.
Amid the silent crowd I recognized a lovely face⎯
A graceful subtlety, with no appearing pain.
On sudden impulse I called, began to pace
In futile attempts that seemed in vain.
She stalked along within the swarm,
Her skin washed a faint unearthly glow,
Snow-white skirt behind her wandering form,
With no visible emotion to be shown.
I yelled and ran with all my might,
And at last she turned her head and met my eyes.
I saw in hers an emerging life of light,
And slowly but suddenly, she began to cry.
Though despite my s
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Literature
Stranger Days
Stranger days have past since I
found myself lost
in blue and green eyes
as volatile as strong
tumultuous waves and
deep as the silent water
they tugged me into.
Stranger days we live in since you
barged in through guarded doors
with no invitation
but your brash and mighty ego,
broken to the touch;
and if all you wanted was attention,
now you have mine, and
only your bright and playful smile
excused you
from the rules you trashed,
codes you’ve vandalized.
Stranger days there will be since I
saw the same darkness that
dwells inside,
this unrelenting force that
unites us and destroys us both, this
impurity and imperfection,
chaotic temptation,
something beautiful and
something lethal
and mad as you are.
Stranger days
are what frighten me the most,
and I fear, dear stranger⎯
I fear
with every being
whether or not
my heart will kill me
before you kill it first.
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When you know you have that ho-bag mother nature hating your guts, the good thing about it is that you get a monthly excuse to act however the fuck you want, and the best part is: NOBODY can say a thing.
Become a total bitch? It's not your fault. You're going through a tough time. Skip class/work? It's alright, girl. We understand. Eat an entire pig? Ain't no one in their right mind is gonna judge you. Anyone got beef with you? Give 'em your inherently demonic eyes like, "I'm going to menstruate all over your dead body". They'll know better.
It's like you get a red pass for every single thing you do. After all, who can blame you when you've got biology working against you?

Still, I think I can speak for all women when I say: DAMN YOU TO HELL, BIOLOGY...
  • Listening to: Perfect Start - Nic Toms
  • Eating: Everything

deviantID

yoursingingsatellite
Alotta Magic
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
I am a student of life. Enlightened, opinionated and eager to learn.
I appreciate art when I see it. I enjoy good humor and good stories. I like to party. I like dogs. I hate hippies and people who take offense to my political incorrectness. Views on copyright infringement: load of crap. Do whatever you want with my work. Nothing is truly original after all.

A natural-born rebel, full-time anarchist. I stick it to authority. I break the law. I don't follow rules. Rules follow me. yea dats rite bcuz fuk yo grammar. bitch i make ma own language if i want to

Me: providing your daily dose of bullshit since a few days ago.
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Comments


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:iconmelalina:
Melalina Featured By Owner May 22, 2014  Professional General Artist
Any reason why I haven't seen anything new from you in a long time?
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:iconyoursingingsatellite:
yoursingingsatellite Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Sorry it took me so long to reply! I haven't logged onto DA in a looong time. I've been busy with classes though it isn't really an excuse now that it's summer. I haven't been writing so much and the only things I've been writing are terrible random pieces that aren't worthy of anyone's eyes but mine..
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:iconmelalina:
Melalina Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2014  Professional General Artist
:iconhappybirthday2plz:
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:iconwonderfultyrant:
WonderfulTyrant Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2013
AMBUSH!
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:icondeathbyskittlez:
DeathbySkittlez Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Hi! You've been featured! Good work! :3

[link]
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:iconsourair:
SourAir Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Hello, I've featured you here! :meow: [link]
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:iconyoursingingsatellite:
yoursingingsatellite Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:O Wow. Thank you!!!! You've made me happy :)
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:iconsourair:
SourAir Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Aww, no problem! You earned it! :D
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2013
Thank you for the favourite :D :D
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:iconyoursingingsatellite:
yoursingingsatellite Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome. You deserve it :)
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