ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I am the Sandman.
I drop soft bombs.
Graphite bombs.
Viva le revolucion?
No.
Vive le reve.
I am the Sandman,
And this is the season
For spring playing autumn for articles
Of clothing, falling.
I dream of a thousand and one night stand,
Of holding your vertebrae like a rosary.
Lighting you up like a flesh and bone votive.
The revolution is dead, love
Give up the fight.
Let yourself be suffocated by cinnamon,
Called to sleep by the police siren song.
This is heavy metal in Baghdad.
This is a lullaby for every speedfreak
Sung by a choir of exploding lightbulbs.
The filaments burn bright and scream soprano.
Wake up and live the dream.
I drop soft bombs.
Graphite bombs.
Viva le revolucion?
No.
Vive le reve.
I am the Sandman,
And this is the season
For spring playing autumn for articles
Of clothing, falling.
I dream of a thousand and one night stand,
Of holding your vertebrae like a rosary.
Lighting you up like a flesh and bone votive.
The revolution is dead, love
Give up the fight.
Let yourself be suffocated by cinnamon,
Called to sleep by the police siren song.
This is heavy metal in Baghdad.
This is a lullaby for every speedfreak
Sung by a choir of exploding lightbulbs.
The filaments burn bright and scream soprano.
Wake up and live the dream.
Literature
Volpi.
You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat –
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see t
Literature
Shallow Water
It was just a little kiddie pool in the backyard, unlovely pink-and-yellow plastic under the hot summer sun. But on those nights when Mom came home from the swing shift tired and met Daddy sitting in the kitchen angry, it was Amy’s only sanctuary.
She wasn’t a sound sleeper. Her parents still talked about how it had taken her infant self six months to sleep more than two or three hours at a time. During the school year, when her life was full of classes and friends and sports, it was easier to drop off, but summer nights were always more difficult. They were hotter, for one thing, and the long, indolent, inactive days often left
Literature
She Was With the Stars
The amber girl
was preserved perfectly
and her silky hair and porcelain skin
gleamed like a doll's
But the scientists weren't able to keep
her soul burning
because though she was in the
glass case filled with chemicals and fluids
and they were desperately trying to pump
oxygen into her lungs,
her mind was still up in space
with the stars
So the sun was extinguished
despite the cries and mournful screams
because they had
broke her
and the many who looked up
at her light and glory
slowly began to rot away
And so not a single thing was solved
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
For some reason, I find it particularly distasteful that the military uses graphite as a bomb now. Killers already claimed lead. What are we supposed to make pencils out of now? The rest was born out of my typical response when anybody asks how I'm doing. "Living the dream,"
First off's always imagery. Did it grab your attention? Does any of it stick with you after reading?
Next comes flow. Was it a pleasant read? Where it flowed, and where it stuttered, did it work?
Does it make one think or feel? If so, what?
Any other questions, concerns, or comments?
Please and thank you.
For the Written Revolution, here's the most recent commentary:
[link]
First off's always imagery. Did it grab your attention? Does any of it stick with you after reading?
Next comes flow. Was it a pleasant read? Where it flowed, and where it stuttered, did it work?
Does it make one think or feel? If so, what?
Any other questions, concerns, or comments?
Please and thank you.
For the Written Revolution, here's the most recent commentary:
[link]
© 2012 - 2024 ThermadorianGrey
Comments20
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Overall Vision Originality Technique Impact"I am the Sandman.
I drop soft bombs.
Graphite bombs." - a nice start, especially considering your title.
"Viva le revolucion?
No.
Vive le reve." - simply fantastic wording.
"I am the Sandman,
And this is the season
For spring playing autumn for articles
Of clothing, falling." - you know how much I love your line breaks, and here, it is marvelous. Rolls so smoothly off your tongue read out loud.
"I dream of a thousand and one night stand,
Of holding your vertebrae like a rosary.
lighting you up like a flesh and bone votive." - Actually, I take back what I said earlier. This is your strongest stanza, because of your turn of phrase in "a thousand and one night stand". I notice you do this in almost all your poems. And it's genius. I love what it insinuates. The imagery just pulls you in and keeps you there.
"The revolution is dead, love.
Give up the fight.
Let yourself be suffocated by cinnamon,
Called to sleep by the police siren song.
This is heavy metal in Baghdad.
This is a lullaby for every speedfreak
Sung by a choir of exploding lightbulbs.
The filaments burn bright and scream soprano." - Resplendent imagery. Thoroughly impressed by how someone is able to take you away and overwhelm you with all five senses by such simple, striking words and images, without ever having experienced such things themselves. Ingenious. This is what makes a writer strong; their ability to produce a piece that sincerely moves you.
"Wake up and live the dream." - an excellent way to draw this poem into a full circle.
Well done, sir. You were able to capture and produce moments people experiencing such events wouldn't be able to do themselves. The idea of this piece is well formed and conveyed marvelously throughout. :]