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An Animal PlanetA shrewdness of apes
An unkindness of ravens
A kaleidoscope of butterflies
A parliament of owls
A pandemonium of parrots
A congregation of alligators
A conspiracy of lemurs
A cackle of hyenas
A prickle of porcupines
I wonder what a family of me might be
In a monestary
In the mountains
The idea struck him like a pebble
Might bounce off a bedroom window
If that ever actually happened.
It became a smooth stone
That skipped across his ribs,
Rippled his reflection,
Cloudied the calm waters in his head.
The stone grew into a geode,
Cracked open to reveal a crystal
Colored like pomegranate,
More porous than pumice.
Blasphemy, blowing bubbles in the blood of Christ
His breath produced a profane foam
From which he feared
Some pagan sex goddess might be born.
Badly shaken, the young monk
Put it back in the bottle
Stuck a cork in and forgot it.
Except in times of celebration
Or in silent meditation,
From time to time,
He could feel a fizz rise up.
Scratch and DentThis body’s no temple.
It is not my home,
But I still have to live there,
So I will drive it like the rental it is.
I will try not to total it,
But I do not want my deposit back.
No stranger to the scratch and dent section,
Some days my skin starts to feel
Like the plastic on old people’s furniture,
And I start to feel
Like the world’s finest dust collection.
Somebody call Guinness.
I’ve never taken ski lessons,
But I’ve been told
If you never fall down,
Then you’re not trying hard enough.
I don’t know how to play guitar,
But I know this:
If your fingers aren’t bleeding,
‘cause tattoos are so boring.
Good stories so rarely written in ink.
I’m not saying scars are sexy.
Scars are stories,
And like all stories,
Some are better than others.
It is not the scar itself.
It is not the story.
It is the portrait of the artist,
The sound and the fury.
It is so much better than scrapbooking.
Memoirs of mosh pits, food fight
Earthquake CafeIt’s hard to believe
It’s been six years since the Earthquake Café.
Since the Science Center froze our shadows on the wall.
I wonder if they’re still there.
Six years since we made people double-take,
Look crooked at us and issue back-hand compliments,
And I’d say, thanks? I think.
Since we were that pair of people.
Six years and still not comfortable
Calling it a couple, “it’s complicated”
That status on Facebook was made for us then.
Seventy-two moons since the solstice
Where you were the first
And the last
Person to ever make me blush.
You’ll have to forgive the nostalgia.
This is how I get closure,
And writing is so much cheaper than therapy.
A lost generation unto our selves,
Not quite Jay and Daisy
Maybe more F. Scott and Zelda
Maybe more than a little crazy,
And now you have this baby cutting teeth.
You have this something stable,
This foundation not built on fault lines.
This life not given to blackouts and tremors.
This Machine Kills FascistsHave you ever seen the movie
About the signing of the peace treaty?
So thank you, Mr. Reyes
For reminding us why in war
Drums and fifes always came before
Guns and knives
Because hearts and minds mattered in the days
Before drone strikes.
Because even weapons would rather not kill people.
Even guns would rather be guitars.
So gracias, Senor Reyes, for liberating the oppressors.
My friend is a French and Indian war re-enactor.
A few times a summer,
He and his friends dress up in period clothing,
Ride around on horses
And shoot muskets at each other.
Let’s be peace re-enactors,
And let’s make it authentic.
Let’s make music and remember
There will always be at least this one thing
We do better than machines.
Remember why every bomb whistles on its way to the ground.
Let’s remember that a song is a start,
That a call to arms is cool,
But a farewell to them is the real revolution.
Remember that all poems are petitions.
This one will not end the politicians
This Is Just A DrillWhen I called you a trick,
I meant you were magic.
Scarves up your sleeves
Pigeons in your pants,
I saw you in half.
I saw you.
Now I don’t.
We are some escape artists.
Handcuffs our canvas.
We keep applause in a can.
Keep our audience captive,
It’s obvious that
Some movies you see for the writing,
Some for the acting,
Some for the air conditioning.
I am that last class.
That forgettable feel good hit of the summer,
That Ebert and Roeper say the end was the best part.
I am that book that you don’t buy for its binding
The one that isn’t smart furniture.
I am no conversation piece.
I want you to crease my spine
To underline your favorite parts.
Our love would be like tourism in Pittsburgh.
Apparently it exists,
But I’ve never seen it.
Let me be your dress rehearsal,
Your penny dreadful,
That vacation where it rained the whole time
And you stayed inside.
DogstarI’m not one for writing hate-mail,
But I’m going to go postal
If one more person asks me
What I’m doing with my life.
I have aces and eights emblazed on my chest.
I have never worn a vest,
But if I did,
That’s where I would keep my cards.
Go ahead and tell me again
How smart I am,
How I can do anything.
That’s precisely the problem.
The reason I’ve spent two semesters at community college,
And changed my major four fucking times.
Ask me again,
Don’t you like math?
I’ll tell you again,
Yeah, I do, sometimes.
Know what else I like sometimes?
English, science, art, music, silence, business, pleasure, pain, the rain, the sun, the moon, the earth, helping people, hurting people, Buddhism, BDSM, feminism, comic books, poetry, punk rock, rock climbing, roller coasters, rocket science, astronomy, amateur phlebotomy, philosophy, psychology, psychopathy, serenity, cigarettes, chaos theory, coffee, canis vulpis, and carnivorous plants.
To the Poet Who's Always Angry:Please stop yelling.
Seriously, settle down.
I’m not saying you’re anger is unjustified.
I’m just saying that being justified
Does not make it healthy.
I’m worried about you, dude.
This is an intervention.
I know there’s a lot of social injustice.
I’ve heard it said if you’re not pissed off,
You’re not paying attention.
The Dalai Lama begs to differ,
And I’m inclined to agree with that guy.
He seems to know his shit.
I know that outrage is an aesthetic.
I know that red looks good on you.
I know your work sounds better louder,
But just hear me out.
Angry people die so much sooner.
Your blood pressure must be ridiculous.
What does your doctor say about that shit?
Also, I’d like to remind you
Angry people make more messes than they fix.
Angry people hurt people,
And hurt people hurt people.
And I heard something somewhere
About an eye for an eye.
I don’t quite remember how it goes,
But I don’t think it ends well.
Last LongerWe are all naked under our clothes,
And just below that
We are mostly meat and mucous.
A little ocean of iron and oxygen,
We are rusting.
We are bleach of bone and birds nests of raw nerve.
Nothing sexy about that.
So take lots of pictures,
Not too many x-rays.
There’s a story that says
The Buddha was tempted to walk away from the path
By these three pretty girls but
The Buddha remembered that
Soon they would be old
And not too long after that,
They would be fertilizer.
I don’t know if I share his restraint.
Yes, I know this will pass,
I just don’t know if I want it to.
I might want to feel this frustrated forever.
Make me immortal.
Embalm me in silver nitrate.
Fill my arms with ichor so when I bleed,
I bleed in sepia.
Just one thing.
I never liked pictures.
I roll my eyes when I pose for photos,
And I’m really bad at forcing smiles.
I have to force them less these days
With that Midwest way you turn your ohs into ahs.
And that face that you make when you’
TruthLogic is seeing
Pain is teaching
Blindness is strength
Balance seeks itself
My soul is sooted
you can runfather, father, will no one see us,
will the sun shield us with her bedouin cloth,
years from now will i be ashamed of what i had or
when i was whimpering in the open under dust-
soaked banners of the sun
father, father, mouth to your ear,
my sand-golem, have you ever been, if yes,
have you ever been here,
will we tumble down the crater, father,
will we let them pass,
who would be searching for us
between the frigid lips of the desert,
who would send hounds after us
except they're running,
who would leave tracks of dried saliva,
tumbleweed tongues, father,
are they far away and are we cowards
and if we are,
father father, will no one see us,
will my wish be granted,
will i be cocooned in sandstorm daggers
to be blinded, ten
years from now when i crawl out of the crat
True Strength LiesHeroes are strong beyond physical belief
With the bulking muscles to intelligence
With super powers to physical perfection
The image everyone wants to be
Heroes are stronger than any man
They are gods in the flesh
They can crush temples and fight monsters with their bare hands
They are only myths, but they are images
Be as strong as the almighty Hercules
You have the strength within to control everything
Destiny works against you and for you
All that matters is strength
Images, that's all they are
Hopes in having that body of Hercules
The tiny man getting picked on to becoming a strong man
Strength in the form of an image, but not a inward image
Samson, oh Samson
Just as bold and mighty as Hercules
The last judge who flirted with danger
He was stronger than any man, but he was really weak
A Nazarite who couldn't say no to all things that were bad
Flirted with danger with his physical being
But then was crushed by Delilah for a payment of 1,000 pieces of silver
Given into the hands of a
Lydia: The WallI used to live behind a wall,
a barrier separating me
from Those Out There,
and them from me,
tall and wide,
Some bricks were laid
some by religion
some laid by others,
some by myself,
and so the wall grew.
Some bricks were pretty,
others I hated,
some made me feel safe,
Some I wished I could break away -
others I never wanted to,
and so the wall stood,
my friend and my foe,
from Those Out There,
and them from me.
There it stood,
Gentile and Jew,
woman and man,
Greek and foreigner,
slave and free,
rich and poor -
my neighbour and me,
I felt safe
because of the Wall -
you broke it down.
Down it fell
as men took women seriously -
this woman -
Down it fell
as Jews entered a Gentile home -
my home -
Down it fell
as you gave me
a new life,
a new perspective.
Let me live
a life without walls
in your House without locks
where all may come in.
Let me invit
On FractalsI encode the commands
that instruct the machine:
and plot points softly.
Art predating earthly creation
hides within the nature of numbers.
Here, there is a sun;
there, a solar system;
yonder, an arabesque.
Beauty, from before
the light that was to be,
now awaits without fear
whatever end may one day come.
Discovered, as they were,
barely more than a lifetime ago,
these wonders, to us, are strung
between the infinities of time,
on sheets of pure mathematics
glimmering with the fingerprints
I ask for Your strength
And Your energy, Lord
For my dearest friend and me
Send Your Holy Spirit
To guide our footsteps
Provide what You know we need
For Your promise
Will not give us more than we can bear
she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.slurred visions of last
summer's eve are rejected by the last
time you sold your soul to the devil,
and she whispers in your ear that she loves you,
she grasps your hand, pulling on the folds in
your skin, slithering under the creases
and bending and breaking your consciousness,
you're a lost civilization and she loves the
she presses your hand to her heart and you can't
feel it beating.
you question her and she blinks.
next thing you know,
she's melting, the skin on her face degenerating,
dripping on the gravel and traveling through her hands
and even though she's the antichrist,
you pity her.
before she departs from your body,
she grips your soul tight,
not even apologizing, saying,
"god made me this way, kid."
Pray to the RainWe're exchanging goodbyes,
But we're still standing together.
And there's so much to say,
We still talk about the weather.
But the sky is really fascinating,
This silence incapacitating.
The windows down,
Wind drowns out our wishes.
I'd pray to a star,
But tonight they're non-existent
I'd pray to the moon,
But it's so damn inconsistent.
So I'll pray to the rain,
I trust things that fall.
I pray to the rain,
To break this brick wall.
I try to take away your pain,
But I'm no narcotic.
And I might be insane,
But I'm no damn psychotic.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More