| Because its from some random spot in my ridiculously overpopulated gallery... So I doubt anyone has the force of will to pick through the whole thing  |
Battlefields
History Lessons
When In Rome...Ashen and sulfuric, Billowing smoke and fire—When In Rome...
In Pompeii they rue the
Dawning of these dark days,
Vesuvius blusters.
Roman skies blacken with her ire.
by *UltimateOutlaw
MedusaKrakenMedusa
Heart and harem Hands. Slither snakes and stone Glare. Gorgon, chthonic monster, Winged Woman Of Athena Envy and exile. Once Wickedly defiled by ocean God Zeus. Villain
From who’s severed Head grew gentle winged Pegasus; and from blood, Red Sea Coral. Alas; A mirror, brought Her both grace and downfall When held in Perseus’ hand; His shield. In a
Word, she is a
Mask; appended then left Severed, her body weeping in
Hades.
by *UltimateOutlaw
October RevolutionYou forgive but you don’t forget.October Revolution
Leningrad, 8 PM from the Bridge, bodies tumble into the
Swelling waters of the Niva.
Carycin, November 7 Whole families executed.
Warm bathwater brings sharp sting of Electricity in the tub.
You forgive but you don’t forget,
The dogs braying the courtyard, Forty below in the gulag.
“Your children will become orphans Never even to see your graves”
You forgive but you don’t forget Living through the end of days.
by *UltimateOutlaw
The Price of AmbitionAnd so—The Price of Ambition
The dangerous business of manipulating A man with a God Complex
Backfires:
Vain-glorious—
You were exquisitely rewarded for your Taste in fair-weather-friends;
Weren’t you?
Like Eve, were you surprised that the
Apple fell so far from the tree,
Yet so—
Close to the chopping block?
Yes—
Your dreams will be of guillotines For the rest of your numbered days.
by *UltimateOutlaw
Newest
On The Wings of MorningMorning does ascend on wings of sunrise Dusty earth ensconced in an amber glow- Heralded with frenzied mocking bird cries, While the sad mourning dove coos, soft and low-On The Wings of Morning
Morning wings wild across winter skies, Like the scathing call of the lonely crow- Carrion of evening within her eyes, While the darkening clouds bring threat of snow-
Now these mornings are broken wing-ed sighs; When, from dreams of you, I wake up alone- A nightingale, I flee for swathe of night, Empty of life and hollow of bone.
by *UltimateOutlaw
...And Something Like Magic???There is magic in the room… It is the only way that we survive....And Something Like Magic???
We find magic in a moment.
We fight the good fight,
We aren't hopeless.
We are only silent.
We live the good life.
And yet sometimes, still,
We cry.
But there is magic in this room… So somehow we survive.
Life will never be empty
When it all crashes down.
We persevere.
To find magic in a moment And oblivion in the sound
Of silence.
And solitude.
And safety in
by *UltimateOutlaw
Night FallingThe sound of night falling over this house; It is echoing and pervasive It has nothing to do with this novel It has everything to do with us It is the sound of the last crickets Crying mourning weeping It is the sound of us Collapsing and dying Incapable of breathing.Night Falling
I am in fact sorry.
I'm not sure if you believe it.
by *UltimateOutlaw
Vengeance Chap 1 and 2 Complet--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Vengeance Chap 1 and 2 Complet
Chapter 1- Over-Drafts and Firebombs
The death-throes of fluorescent lights pool on the floor of the station, flickering shadow, then glow, then back to black as the train rumbled off down a steel and electric track. Alexandra's black stilettos ring against the pavement, first left then right-the sharp, precise clicking of her heels echoing off cement in the silent station. Cold rain falls in a windblown mist; tiny beads of water catching in Alexandra's hair, creating a pearlescent halo around her dark curls. She crosses the platform pu
by *UltimateOutlaw
Vengeance Chapter 1 FirebombsChapter 1- FirebombsVengeance Chapter 1 Firebombs
The death-throes of fluorescent lights pool on the floor of the station, flickering shadow, then glow, then back to black as the train rumbles off down a steel and electric track. Alexandra's black pumps fall, first left then right-sharp, precise clicking of heels upon pavement. The sound echoes against the silence of the midnight station as the rain falls in a windblown mist. Tiny glistening beads of water catch in Alexandra's hair, creating a pearlescent halo around her dark curls. She crosses the platform purposefully, umbrella clutched in one hand, suitcase in the other; neither hellos nor goodbyes
by *UltimateOutlaw
Vengence ScenesParis Café Scene-Vengence Scenes
It is springtime in Venice and the woman wears a black beret and fingerless leather gloves but is otherwise nondescript. Dark of hair and olive skinned, she is not unattractive but is unlikely to incite double-takes from passerby. She remains mostly unnoticed by the crowd who sit sipping wine or idly picking at filet mignons or creme brulee at yellow umbrella-ed tables. She has been sitting here for 3 hours and her granita di caffè has melted down to slush in the cup. Finally, she beckons, barely perceivably. The gesture goes unacknowledged and unappreciated by the boisterous patrons. It, ho
by *UltimateOutlaw
Dragons in Lit chap1 p 2 People stare. It is in their nature to do so. This is a fact most of us would be better off accepting sooner rather than later, lest we take offense at human nature itself which is really quite a waste of time.Dragons in Lit chap1 p 2
So it was that when the Princess and Knight in Shining Armor arrived in the town square (and it wasn't long before they did so, Princess was not the most athletic of girls and hence had not walked far on her quest for wild flowers before wearying) they were greeted by the prying and curious stares of the townsfolk. "See here! I've rescued this damsel!"
by *UltimateOutlaw
Dragons in Modern Lit P1Dragons in Modern LiteratureDragons in Modern Lit P1
Chapter 1: A Brief Discourse on Heroes… And Magic
Every story of princesses in peril (or milkmaids, for that matter), doomed kingdoms, and (perhaps most importantly) dragons, must have a hero. However, today we stray from fashion… For the hero of this particular story is not the knight in shining armor, nor is it the wayward outlaw knave, though they both hold a place within the confines of the tale. It is neither the kindly King, for the King is cruel, nor his long suffering Queen, for she lacks the streng
by *UltimateOutlaw
Utter Absolute Favorites
Grey Stone TilesGrey Stone TilesGrey Stone Tiles
I'm left here, Thinking about the words, The schemes, The dreams of your mouth and the shapes it never made,
When I'd play with your hair in my mind and dream of touching your skin. Lotus flowers and bonzai scent, One hundred years spent, Inside high walls, And the sound of raindrops falling Onto grey stone tiles,
Like the days that passed, We spent a day or two smiling, Content with our walking and talking, now no more...
06.17.09
by ~Telestic
WiresI caught you walking out on wires again, falling out my window in a trick so beautiful that your father wept and your lover held his breath. You called it an act of defiance in that voice that brings me to my knees and begs me to argue with you when you know that all I really want to do is strip the pain from your insides and bed you like war.Wires
by =Scarlettletters
Cowards and Liars.I am soft like an infant’s cranium as it is dropped to the floorCowards and Liars.
You are hard like a mountain face that not even the wind can climb
but in the end, we are sickeningly the same.
In my right hand I hold your spineless body in my left hand I hold the lies that I do not love you anymore &nbs
by ~Emotionally-Executed
watchersWe sat there the dark grass thick between our toes, wet elm leaves lacquered to the backs of our legs, the savage calm in your horizon gazing eyes warding off the obscure haunted shapes of strangers that pass us on the street. Possessed by the smell of yesterday-watchers
still lingering on your clothes
by ~FrancieT
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deviantID
| This is how I roll. At the Luau! |
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations [link]
The roots of the future run deep [link]
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
--
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
~I am a poet~
I'm pleased you enjoyed it.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations [link]
The roots of the future run deep [link]
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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